


Infernal

by K_is_for_Kairon



Series: Contracts [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dominance, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi-Public Sex, Spoilers, Tail Sex, canon-divergence, like tons of action, perspective change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 77,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_is_for_Kairon/pseuds/K_is_for_Kairon
Summary: The reward for this job was large. With little information to go on and such a large reward, Fjord had been reluctant to take the job, but Molly was glad for it. He didn't care about the money. He rarely did. He just wanted to be gone from Zadash.A post Molly resurrection fic where the gang goes on the first real adventure after bringing him back, and shit gets super real. And amidst all the chaos, Caleb and Molly take their first awkward steps in their relationship.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this just before episode 20. I wanted this work to be as canon compliant as possible while still giving myself freedom to work, but given recent episodes, I've stopped caring!
> 
> This is my first attempt at fan-fiction in probably 10 years, so I'm kind of excited.

Mollymauk Tealeaf was restless.

  
He knew that it was irritating his companions, but he couldn't help it. Zadash was a fine city, a place he would always look forward to returning, and yet he longed for the road. He was twitchy and anxious and couldn't contain any of his nervous energy. Oh, how he wished he could count all the crusty looks Beau gave him as he bounced his knees and tapped his fingers incessantly at every tavern; Fjord’s exasperated groans during each of Molly's sleepless nights; Caleb's furrowed brow at the endless questions Molly threw at the man while he scribed scrolls into his spellbook.

  
Molly couldn't help it.

All he knew was travel, the journey. Yasha understood - bless her, she was a treasure - and was the first to try to relieve some of Molly's anxiousness. She even invited him on one of her stomchasing escapades just to get him out of the city. He was grateful, beyond grateful, but he didn't want to get between Yasha and her Stormlord; that relationship was sacred.

And so Molly continued to suffer in Zadash. He wanted so badly to leave. He paced the streets, often with Nott, who at least tried to empathize with him as he complained about how boring Zadash was. It was the same streets, the same three taverns, the same paid-for company each night.

* * *

 This morning found the Mighty Nein in the common room of the Leaky Tap. They all, aside from Molly, were enjoying their breakfast. Molly squirmed in his chair and his tail twitched impatiently behind him. He picked at his food, but happily drank way too many cups of coffee.

“Ahmm, Mollymauk,” Caleb began. He was sitting across from Molly, looking at him from behind a book while Nott devoured what remained of his breakfast.

Molly happily turned all his attention to Caleb. He was unable to stifle the flirtatious smile from spreading across his face.

“Yes, Mister Caleb?”

“You seem anxious…”

“More like annoying,” scoffed Beau. Molly glared at her.

“Hey!” Jester scolded. Fjord sighed. “Be nice! Molly's just bored because this place is boring and I'm bored, too. Right, Molly?”

“Well, shit, so am I,” protested Beau. “But I’m not shaking the god damned table like a fucking lunatic!”

“I am a fucking lunatic.” Molly gave her the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

She whipped the back of her hand against his shoulder. “Stop it! You. Are. Driving me insane!”

“Not all of us have your unbridled grace, Beau.” Molly retorted, lacing the words with as much venom and sarcasm as possible while he rubbed his shoulder. It wasn't fair for Beau to fight with her hands.

“Fuck you, Molly.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright, that's enough!” Fjord interrupted. He had his hands out to pat down the flames. “Seems like we're all a little stir crazy. Maybe we could do with some work outside Zadash, yeah?” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps it's time we paid our...employer a visit.”

“Who's our employer?” Nott squeaked.

Fjord just stared at her. He sighed.

Normally, Molly hated any trip to the Evening Nip. This time, however, it sounded like a great idea.

* * *

 Molly was driving the cart this day, letting that familiar rock of the road and rickety creak of wood run deep into his bones and viscera. It felt good to travel. This is what he craved. He wanted dust and mud on his boots; wanted wind in his hair and tugging his coat; wanted aching feet and joints.

He took it easy on the road, not wanting to work the horses too hard. They had a long journey ahead of them through this sparsely populated region to a village on the outskirts of nowhere. On either side of the road, a forest loomed just beyond empty fields and long abandoned farms. Ahead of them, storm clouds were gathering, Yasha watching them from the back of her horse.

A contact had gone missing in a little nameless village far and away from Zadash, as had the previous group the Gentleman had sent. And the one before that. The reward for this job was large. Enough to buy a small house. Enough to make Caleb swallow nervously. With little information to go on and such a large reward, Fjord had been reluctant to take the job, but the others (mostly Beau and Jester) convinced him. Molly was glad for it. He didn't care about the money. He rarely did.

He just wanted to be gone from Zadash.

Molly’s friends were arranged around him. Fjord and Jester riding on his right, chatting amicably. Well, Jester chattering away while Fjord only listened and nodded politely. On his left rode Beau and Yasha. It was far too early in the day for Beau to have given up trying to talk to Yasha and was saying something embarrassing; at least from what Molly could guess based upon the groans he heard from Nott and Caleb in the cart behind him. Molly was too focused on enjoying the road ahead of him, the unsteady rock of the cart, to pay attention. Nott or Caleb would give him the highlights later anyway.

“Right, Molly?” Jester was talking to him. He snapped to attention.

“Oh, I wasn't listening to anything you were saying.” He stretched his arms up and wove his fingers behind his head, letting the reins fall into his lap.

Jester frowned at him.

“Well,” she grumbled. “Too bad then. But I'll give you a donut anyway because I like you and you and Beau are so cool! Who else wants a donut?” She was already digging around in her pack.

They stopped to eat just off the road. Yasha and Fjord turned down the offered donuts, instead opting for something more substantial from their packs. Jester gave them no end of shit for it, even as she handed out donuts to everyone else. Molly noticed Caleb didn’t finish his portion; gave the rest of his unfinished donut to Nott.

Molly waited for everyone to settle before urging the horses onward. He let the horses do most of the work, taking the cart in the same ruts made by so many other wagons and carts before them. He much preferred being up at the front of the cart. It was much easier up here. All he had ahead of him was the road and the grass and the rolling hills and the occasional copse of trees. Behind him and around him, his friends chatted amicably. It brought a tender smile to his face.

There was a flash of light on the road ahead of them. Molly blinked.

“Did anyone else see that?” Beau asked. She was already standing up in her stirrups.

“See what?” Fjord rode up beside Molly near the front of the cart.

“Something flashing...like a, like a...like something flashing.”

“Wow, thanks, Beau, that really clears it up.” Fjord tapped Molly on the shoulder. “Just stop the cart.”

“Look, man, aahhhh SHIT!”

She was interrupted by an arrow blazing just over her shoulder. Her horse reared and threw her. Nott was screaming. Yasha leapt out of the wagon, her blade flashing from its sheath. Beau was up in a flash. More arrows. Thunk, thunk, thunk against the sides of the cart, one sinking into W.C.’s flank. Molly struggled to keep control of the horses, failed, they surged forward, something fell out the back of the wagon, Fjord was yelling at him, W.C. was screaming. Beau leapt atop the cart.

“Stop for fuck’s sake!” Molly snarled at the horses at the bandits at everything.

Three men with pikes leapt up from their hiding place by the roadside, moving up to block the road. They leveled their pikes. Molly yanked hard on the reins. The horses turned off the road. More arrows. Beau snatched one out of the air, held it out to the bandits and laughed.

“Nice try, fucko!” She shouted as she hurled it back at the bandits like a dart.

Molly heard the shout of the man as the arrow struck him. He struggled to right the wagon. He could feel it tipping. Then they were spilling across the field. Molly bounced painfully off the earth, felt the wagon smash into his tail. He threw himself to his feet, adrenaline flushing the pain from his body, and his scimitars were in his hands. Beau was already on her feet and shouting taunts at the bandits. Molly could see Caleb scrambling in the dirt, snatching up his spellbook.  
Five bandits were spilling out from behind a hill. They closed the distance fast. Beau matched Molly's pace so the both of them joined battle at once. Molly led with a slash from his right, drawing the edge of his scimitar across the back of his neck as he twirled. The blade exploded into icy spines as it collided with the bandit’s temple. Blood sprayed across Molly’s face and chest. He snapped his other blade high on the second bandit, driving his guard up. Beau smashed the point of her quarterstaff against the bandit’s throat. The man collapsed, gasping and clutching his neck in desperation. Beau laughed in victory.

“Way to go, idiot,” she taunted. “Now you're dying!”

The remaining three bandits spread out, circled around them. Two were armed with flanged maces that looked stolen; too new compared to their mismatched and stained armor. The third carried a round shield and a bearded axe, wearing a byrnie and a nasal helm that sat lopsided on her head. She banged her weapon against the metal rim of her shield. There was a moment of tense silence as one side eyed the other. Molly caught Caleb working through a spell with his arms and hands.

“Caster!” The bandit with the bearded axe shouted. One of her toadies broke away from the fight.

“No,” snarled Molly and gave chase.

The bandit was just ahead of him. He would not catch the bandit before he got to Caleb. Molly invoked his scimitar, passed into nothing for a stomach-churning moment, and then reappeared in front of the bandit. He slashed at the bandit as he rushed by. Felt the satisfying slice of flesh and bone beneath his blade. The bandit whipped around to face Molly with an angry snarl, blood pouring from his chest to his shoulder. Big mistake. Caleb’s spell went off. A spear of acid splashed against the back of the bandit’s skull. He dropped to the ground, screaming. Molly plunged his other scimitar into the bandit’s chest and tore it free, opening him up like a bag of grain.

Molly grinned at Caleb. The man returned his smile, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“No, it’s cool!” Beau shouted. “I can fight these guys all by myself while you two make out!”

“Only if it’s alright with you,” retorted Molly and turned back to help. Beau had already dispatched one of the bandits and was now fighting off the bandit with the axe while more were arriving from the road.

“Fuck you, Molly!”

Something heavy and sharp punched Molly in the center of his back. It sent him scattering across the earth. He gasped into the soil and grass, the pain blooming across his back and choking his breath. His vision swam. He clawed in the dirt, struggling to rise, just barely getting to his feet before collapsing forward again. Someone was shouting his name as the darkness took him.


	2. Chapter Two

He was drowning. Worms were crawling in his mouth and his ears and his eyes. He had to get out. He clawed and ripped his way upward, what he thought was upward. His nails splintered, his skin tore. Beetles and cockroaches burst from the shadows, digging into his flesh to seek the blood. He couldn't scream. He was choking.

* * *

Molly awoke to pain. Blinding, searing, red, death-pain that tore through his body from a jagged point in the center of his back. For an eternity that's all he felt. All he was was pain. And then came the terror, the fear that he had died and had somehow ended up in the Nine Hells.

Then he thought of his friends. They must have died as well. He thought of Yasha, his good friend, his best-friend, now gone. Jester, who was always so cheerful and friendly. Fjord with his level-head and calming presence. Nott, who certainly deserved so much better than what was handed her, and never failed to bring a laugh when it was sorely needed. Beau, someone who, like him, was unapologetically herself. And Caleb. Caleb, who wore his trauma like a uniform, as obvious to Molly as any Crownsguard. His biggest regret, in his brief two years of life, was never having the opportunity to help Caleb carry some of that crushing burden.

Then he felt small, desperate hands grasping his sticky clothes. He groaned.

“Caleb! He's alive!” Nott.

“Mollymauk?” And Caleb! He could hear the man sink into the mud beside his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy. It felt great. “Can you hear us?”

Molly couldn't answer. He wheezed a pathetic sound into the mud. He couldn't see. But he was so relieved. He felt pain and he wasn't dead, he was alive. He felt Caleb's hand and Caleb was alive. He heard Nott and she was alive. He wasn't drowning in dirt and mud and worms in the Nine Hells. And Caleb was there with him.

“Molly? Nott has a potion. We're going to turn you over, alright?”

Molly knew it would hurt. He knew it would hurt, but he still wasn't ready. When Nott and Caleb grabbed his shoulder, white, blazing pain lanced down his body, through his nerves and his blood, from his spine to the tips of his fingers and toes. A strangled wheeze blew past his lips. When his vision came back, he was staring at the sky and Nott’s grimacing face. Her lip was split, she was missing a tooth, and her face was covered in dried blood. He turned his eyes to Caleb’s face, to see what damage had been done to his precious wizard. Caleb sported a black eye, a swollen face, and was looking down at him with that blank expression Molly hated.

There was a soft pop as Nott uncorked the potion. She poured it into Molly’s mouth. It burned going down, thick and slimy. He coughed and winced as his wounds began to knit together. It wasn't enough, but he felt much better, no longer on the Matron of Ravens’ doorstep. That was when he was aware his coat was missing, and his jerkin and his boots.

“What happened?” Molly rasped. His throat was raw.

“We lost,” answered Nott simply. Molly just stared at her, waiting for further explanation. “I fell out the back of the wagon. Yasha, Jester, and I were fighting the bandits on the road. Yasha told me to hide when the fighting went South. So...I hid. And I waited for Caleb’s signal.”

“Modern Literature.” Caleb offered as an explanation. Molly huffed a breathy laugh.

“You two,” he groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. Pain lanced down his spine, from the center of his back up to the base of his skull and down to the point of his tail. “You. Two. Are probably going to outlive all of us.”

Caleb smiled ruefully.

“That's the plan!” Nott said.

Molly held his hand out to Nott. “Flask?”

Nott pressed her endless flask into Molly’s hand.

“Where is everyone else?” He took a long pull from the flask and gasped at the burn of the alcohol. “And where is all my stuff?”

“The bandits took everyone off into the woods that way.” She pointed to the shadows of a woodland far off the road, taking her flask back from him when it was offered. Molly could barely see the shapes in the darkness; the night sky was heavy with clouds. “And the cart and your stuff. Their leader was sure both your swords were magic.”

“Ha, she's in for a surprise.”

“They took all your jewelry, too.”

Molly's hands went up to his ears, then his horns, lingering for a long moment on the curves and grooves. He felt naked. Less himself. He struggled to his feet as quickly as the pain allowed.

“Whoa, hey!” Nott shouted.

“Ja,” said Caleb, reaching out to grab at Molly's arm. “Maybe you should take it easy.”

Molly jerked his arm away, almost lost his balance. He put his hand on Caleb's shoulder for support. Something wasn't right with his tail and it was fucking with him and making him angry.

“Let's go fucking find them,” he growled. He marched toward the wood, wobbling on his feet as his balance adjusted for his damaged tail.

“Wait,” called Nott, bounding after him. “This is stupid.”

“Ja, this is stupid, Nott is right.” Caleb said. It took him a moment to follow.

Molly ignored them.

“Your clothes are gone!” Nott protested. “You don't even have a weapon!”

“You do,” came Molly's short response. “And he does. We can't leave them, Nott. They're my friends, our friends, and they need our help. I don't care how much it hurts. I'm going to help them in anyway I can.”

“Wait!  _ Wait _ just a second.” Nott dug a dagger out of her cloak and handed it up to Molly.

He took it and nodded to her gratefully.

* * *

For hours they wandered through the woods. Molly was freezing. His clothes clung to his body and he was covered in sweat and blood. Nott was right, this was stupid. But he needed Yasha. He needed Yasha and Jester and Beau and Fjord. And he couldn't live with himself if he left them to the bandits, left them to die.

The trail left behind by the bandits was easy to follow. There were deep footprints and ruts, and nearby twiggy branches of trees were splintered. Molly thought Caleb was surprisingly adept at tracking, even if the trail was easy to follow.

Molly was struggling to keep up now. The pain cutting through his spine was only growing and he could feel fresh blood blooming across his back. He just marched after Nott and Caleb, his grip tight around the dagger. Every few minutes, one of them would look back at him. Maybe Molly was delirious, but it seemed to him that Caleb's eyes lingered on him a bit longer.

Then they heard shouting ahead. Nott dashed behind a tree and Molly immediately lost track of her. He and Caleb went in the opposite direction from Nott, neither of them wanting to risk exposing her position. Molly pushed Caleb forward and they both crouch-walked toward the shouting.

“Grab her!”

“Sven, stop fucking around!”

A roar resounded through the woods. Molly gasped softly when the trees began to thin out and he could finally see ahead.  _ Yasha! _ She was fighting off three bandits with her bare hands, a fourth on the ground beneath her feet.  _ And he's wearing my boots! _ Six tall stones were jutting out of the ground in the clearing, each etched with strange runes that Molly could barely make out.

Molly lunged past Caleb.

“Mollymauk!” Caleb hissed.

Molly plunged Nott’s dagger into the closest bandit, wedging it as deep as it would go into her side. She screamed and whipped around with her notched sword leading. Molly dropped beneath the blade and kept his hand on the dagger; he gave it a twist and tore it out. The bandit stumbled back, gripping her wound as bright blood poured freely between her fingers. Molly tried to grin menacingly at her, but it turned into a pained grimace.

“Fuck you!” The bandit growled.

Yasha kept her foot pressed into the bandit’s throat below her as she swung a fist at another. The bandit beneath her foot thrashed against her weight, but his life was slowly fading.

Two bolts struck one of the bandits on the opposite side of the clearing, one in the base of his skull and one in his lower back. He crumpled with a pathetic gurgle.

Molly circled the wounded bandit. She bared her bloody teeth and then dove at him. Molly slapped her sword arm aside, stepped in, thinking about how slow he was and how lucky for him these bandits were not exceptionally skilled, and drove Nott’s dagger up beneath the bandit’s jaw.

Nott was shouting. She fired two more bolts into the bandit beneath Yasha, successfully stopping him from stabbing the barbarian in the calf. Molly could hear Caleb preparing another spell as they all turned to face the remaining bandit.

“F-fuck off!” The bandit shouted. He hurled his axe at them, missing so wide Molly wasn't sure where the man was aiming.

Then he turned and fled. Three arcane darts blasted the fleeing bandit into the ground before he could get far and Yasha was on him before he could stand. With a roar, she stomped down on the bandit’s throat.

A silence hung over the small clearing for a moment. Molly could hear himself and Yasha panting, his blood rushing in his ears. Finally, Yasha turned to him. He smiled and, again, it transformed into a grimace.

“Molly,” she said with a smile. She wrapped him up in a hug. He groaned in pain. “Oh, sorry. When I saw you last, you were on the ground with an arrow in your spine.”

“Where are the others?” Molly rasped. His voice was tight with pain and exhaustion.

Yasha pointed deeper into the woods. Nott finally stepped into the clearing, still gripping her crossbow. Caleb was inching forward with his eyes on the standing stones. Molly didn't want to look at the writing on the stones. There was something horrifically familiar about them and he didn't have enough blood in his body to address it.

“How did you get out here?” Nott asked.

“They dragged me.” Yasha gestured to the dead bandits around them. “I broke the rope and then I threw that one on the ground then you showed up. I was planning on trying to find you, Nott. I was hoping Caleb would be with you and...maybe Molly as well.”

Molly slowly lowered himself to the ground, resting his back - carefully - against one of the stones. He couldn't keep standing. He needed sleep. Real sleep. But that would have to wait. He yanked his boots off the dead bandit -  _ they didn't even fit this stupid asshole _ \- and pulled them on over his own feet and legs. Molly took the time to lace them up and fit them perfectly over his legs, at just the right spot over his thighs. At least he would die with his boots.

“If we are willing to wait,” said Caleb suddenly, clearing his throat. His hand was on the surface of the stone against which Molly sat. “I can read this. Unless…” His voice trailed off and he looked to Molly. “This looks like something you might be able to read, Molly.”

Molly leaned his head back to meet Caleb’s gaze, his gorgeous blue eyes. He hesitated. Molly wanted to say “yes, of course I can read the horrible, jagged, splintery words on these gross, creepy stones.” He didn't want to tell Caleb reading gave him a headache, that sometimes he had to read things seven or eight times before his brain fully absorbed the words.

“It might take a while.” Molly breathed.

“You don't have to.” Caleb touched the tips of his fingers to Molly's horn.

Molly pulled himself to his feet. His vision swam and he placed his hand on the stone to steady himself. Caleb's hand had moved to Molly's shoulder, helping to hold him upright while Molly recovered.

“Might as well,” breathed Molly. He lingered for a moment longer just to enjoy the heat of Caleb's hand through his shirt.

Nott and Yasha kept a lookout, each on opposite sides of the clearing and pacing back and forth. Molly wasn't sure how well Yasha could see in the dark, but he didn't let that concern him. He just wanted this over with. As soon as he looked at the stones, he felt a wave of dread wash over him. One of the things he hated the most was reading Infernal...well, reading in general sucked, but reading Infernal was so much worse. He wasn't ashamed of his heritage, not at all. Nine Hells, he spoke Infernal an awful lot. But reading it made him dizzy and chilled his bones. Sometimes it felt like the words burned into his eyes and skull, like he was looking into the Prince of the Nine Hells’ personal collection of subversive, erotic fiction. What he read now was not all that different from that, actually. Blood, violence, domination, control. The stones were calling for the submission of mortal life, body and soul. 

This was a place where offerings were made to something called Akerion. 

There was something horrible and violent out here in the woods that put these stones up, and these stupid bandits were somehow connected.

Caleb waited patiently for Molly to finish reading. This was one of the many things Molly liked about Caleb. He rarely ever rushed. He waited as Molly hobbled from stone to stone, never uttering a word, and offering a steadying hand to Molly when it seemed he would lose his balance. Molly drew it out as much as he reasonably could. Once Molly finished reading, he explained to his companions what was written on the stones.

“So what, do they have  _ orgies _ out here or something?” Nott asked.

Molly smiled and said, “Oh, yes, and with a goat.”

“You know, maybe someone should try to come up with new ideas for diabolic cults, because it's getting stale. Maybe they should have, like, a workshop where cults can go and they'll have these, like, speakers that can help cultists come up with fresh ideas. With creative exercises and everything.”

“Maybe we can pitch it to them?”

“It's a worth a shot.” Nott continued. Caleb was smiling and Molly could hear Yasha’s quiet laughing. “We'll go up to them, ‘Hey, we have this great idea, maybe you can let our friends go?’”

“I think that could work.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. This chapter took a lot longer than I would have liked and I admit I struggled with it a bit. Life and GenCon got in the way of me getting it done sooner, but here it is!

They followed Yasha through the wood. She claimed to remember the way back to the bandits’ (or was it cultists’?) camp. It was easy, just go backwards through the trees uphill along this game trail Molly couldn't make out even when it was pointed out to him a dozen times, until the camp just appeared out of the woods.

No big deal.

It wasn't far.

This would be easy.

Yasha stopped suddenly, turned to face Molly. He almost bumped into her and had to put a hand on her muscled stomach to steady himself.

“Molly,” began Yasha. Caleb was walking slowly toward them, sending his lights ahead as they walked through the wood. “There's an awful lot of bandits inside. More than what met us on the road.”

Molly was having a hard time focusing on her.

“Do you think you can fight?” Yasha asked him.

“I fought back at those stones.” Molly’s voice was strained. He was getting worse, he could feel it.

“It's just...you, you know, you're hurt. And, well, when I...you know I'm good at fighting and I'll have Nott and you...you were slow back there.” Yasha put her hands up in a placating gesture. “I don't mean to be rude, but I think you're just shit right now.”

Molly sighed. “Yeah...no, that's fair.” He took a breath. “But look at me. Does this look like Mollymauk Tealeaf?”

Yasha frowned at him. “Is this about your stuff? We'll get it back. And, yes, idiot, you look like you, just shit.”

Molly sighed once more. His breath rattled painfully in his lungs.

“I just,” he began, not really knowing how to explain to her how he absolutely could not let them do this without him. “Just pretend I'm not here. Go ahead with Nott, I'll stay back with Caleb.”

Yasha stared at him for a long moment before nodding once and striding ahead.

 

* * *

 

Molly crouched in the weeds on the outskirts of the camp, Caleb beside him. He could make out palisades, spiked walls, fires, and perhaps a dozen or more figures moving in the flickering shadows. He could not spot his companions. Likely they were hidden away in the slapdash hut in the center. At least he hoped they were.

Yasha and Nott had both moved ahead. They all agreed Molly was better off in the back with Caleb where it was unlikely he would slow down the fighters on the frontlines...ish. Molly anxiously twisted his hand around the garbage-sword he claimed back at the stones. He was powering through his pain now; much easier to ignore now that he was so close to satiating his bloodlust.

Molly and Caleb were waiting for a signal from Yasha, both of them slowly inching their way forward. Caleb's hand was on Molly's shoulder. Molly was grateful for the warm and steadying weight, it kept him awake and alive. He wanted to lose himself to the touch. Caleb's touches were so rare.

Then came the signal. A single hoot. Molly surged to his feet, Caleb beside him. He saw Yasha’s form darting forward with her recovered spear leveled at the two guards. Caleb put a hand on Molly's shoulder and produced from his pouch a tiny ball of something brown-black and something yellow before pointing it at the wall. A tiny, glowing bead darted out from the point of his finger before suddenly exploding into a deafening eruption of fire. Wood and splinters flew into the air.

Molly darted toward the camp. He stumbled and scrambled to his feet, snarling through the pain. There was shouting from inside the camp, someone was screaming in agony nearby. The smell of fire and burning flesh was thick in Molly's nose as he dove through the scorched break in the palisade. He could hear Caleb close behind, muttering fearfully in Zemnian, likely about how stupid this all was. Molly quickly dispatched two bandits who were burning alive nearby - just an easy plunge of his sword and they were gone. He didn't want Caleb to see. His eyes darted around. Yasha had already busted through the gate, Nott on her shoulders. The bandits were scrambling, many of them drunk and in various states of undress. He saw one stringing a bow, wearing his coat.

_My coat!_

“Oi, cunt!” Molly shouted. His voice was hoarse and raspy. The man didn't appear to have heard him and was in the process of nocking an arrow. “I said,” snarled Molly, switching to Infernal, “ _oi, cunt!_ ”

The bandit shuddered as the psychic attack wracked his brain. His arrow went wide, sailing far over Nott’s head. Molly stalked towards him. He made his every careful and pained step look menacing. The bandit frantically searched for the source of the attack for a moment before his eyes fell on Molly. The color drained from his face.

“You're dead!” He shouted incredulously. “I shot you! You're dead!”

Molly grinned his grimace and delighted in the man's fear. The bandit trained his bow on Molly, quickly drew back the string, and then his eyes went black. Molly felt fresh, hot blood bloom across his back as the loosed arrow shot wide over Molly's shoulder. He heard Caleb curse behind him. The bandit was screaming now. He threw his bow to the ground and slipped his axe from his belt, his free hand rubbing desperately at his eyes. Any second his vision would return. Molly closed the distance as quickly as his injury allowed.

The bandit's vision returned just in time.

With one eye still closed, the bandit swung his axe with both hands at Molly. Molly instinctively leaned away from the strike. Pain shot through his system, making his vision go white. He threw himself forward. Both Molly and the bandit went tumbling to the ground. He was forced to drop that garbage sword. Molly grabbed the bandit's collar.

“Give me back my coat!” He snarled.

The bandit screamed in response. He swung his axe at Molly's skull. Molly turned his head, flinching at the sharp crack of the axe head chipping his horn, and the sharp pain that bloomed across his skull. He grabbed at the bandit's axe. They wrestled for the weapon. Molly heard spells going off over his back and shoulders - could feel the crackle and buzz of arcane energy. Somewhere Yasha was shouting over the cries of the bandits. The fire was spreading quickly, he could see the flickering firelight drowning out his darkvision.

All he wanted was his fucking coat.

Molly leaned back, letting the bandit pull back on the axe, opening up his defenses. Molly slammed his skull down against the bandit's forehead. He turned his head at the last moment so his horn took most of the force of the blow and to inflict as much damage as he could. The bandit grunted, his grip loosening on the axe. Molly leaned back again, brought his head down again, slammed his horn into the bandit's skull again. The bandit dropped the axe and tried to grab for Molly's shoulders. Molly snatched up the axe. He cleaved it through the bandit's softened skull. Blood, brains, bones, hair, and teeth slapped against Molly's face and torso.

Molly rose painfully to his feet, bringing the axe up with him. Caleb was still nearby. But he wasn't moving. _Weak._ Molly blinked and shook his head, surprised at himself for that horrible thought. Fire was spreading throughout the camp. Screams were coming from people still trapped in their tents. The bandits were in a panic, rushing around the camp in a frenzy, but some were beginning to organize. Nott was picking them off. Yasha had reached the central structure and was in the process of killing the two woefully unprepared guards outside.

Once it was clear they had a moment, Molly yanked his now filthy coat from the dead bandit. Oh, and this fucker had his jerkin as well. He took that back. With a painful grunt he shrugged into his armor and his coat. He didn't bother adjusting any of it. Molly grabbed Caleb's elbow and yanked the wizard - _hard_ , harder than he meant to - towards him.

“C’mon, Mr. Caleb,” he said as he tried to get Caleb to look at him. “Look at me. You can't do this now.”

He didn't wait for a response. There was no time. Molly rushed across the camp to Yasha, dragging Caleb along. Nott joined up with them halfway there, still firing her crossbow and taking down bandits. Molly still didn't see any sign of the leader - the woman with the bearded axe and shield and the glittering mail. Nor did he see any sign of his stolen swords.

Yasha had yanked the door off the hut by the time Molly, Nott, and Caleb had arrived.

“Holy shit!” Beauregard. “This is, like, all my fucking dreams put together.”

“Well, you're a sight for sore eyes.” Fjord.

“Yasha!” Jester. “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she answered. Molly leaned heavily against the hut. “We’re fine. Uh...how are you?”

“Oh, I'm doing pretty okay, thank you Yasha.” Jester answered. “We were all sitting in here wondering how they were going to kill you. It was kind of fun! But I'm really glad to see you're alive, that's way better than you being dead.” She gasped. “Unless you're a zombie! Oh no!”

“Damn it,” Fjord interrupted. “She's not a zombie, Jester! Now get me out of these manacles prompto.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“Yasha, the bandits.” Molly called out to Yasha. He could see their shadows moving against the dancing flames. Caleb was completely rigid beside him. Nott kept glancing back nervously at her boy.

“Oh my gosh!” Jester gasped. “Is that Molly?”

“Nott, can you take care of the manacles? I have to fight.” Yasha turned from the hut to face the approaching bandits. She held the spear in both hands.

“Manacles, yes.” Nott glanced once more at Caleb before darting into the hut. “Manacles are easy. Much easier than traps!”

Molly forced himself off the hut. That last blood maledict had been a mistake. Whatever strength and vigor he had was quickly draining away with whatever remained of his blood. The bandits - five of them - were approaching carefully. Their eyes were trained on Yasha’s massive form. Molly's vision was blurring the shapes into smudges, black streaks against brilliant orange tongues. He grunted, blinked several times, tried to force himself to focus and recover.

He was fucked.

They were fucked.

This was stupid.

Yasha smashed the end of her spear against the ground with a shout.

“Come on!” She cried out to them. It was enough to bring Molly back around for just long enough to witness Caleb's second fireball of the night.

The bandits scrambled. All of them screaming. Some of them ablaze. Molly stayed close to Yasha, striking at any that managed to make it past her spear. Then Fjord was there. He pulled his blade from that tear in reality and the bandits panicked at that. Fjord was saying something to Yasha, but Molly wasn't registering it. His legs felt like air. Did he even have legs? Someone was grabbing him, pulling him to the ground, he couldn't fight, his vision went dark.

 

* * *

 

 

Then he was awake and there was pain and fire.

“Holy shit, Molly!” Jester was hovering over him. “You know it's a good thing I don't mind wasting my spells on you because you pretty much just died and I saved you.”

Molly groaned. He was alive and awake and the pain felt fresh, but he could move.

“Thank you, Jester,” he grunted as he sat up with a little effort. He was exhausted. “I'm glad it doesn't bother you at all.”

“Not even a little bit.”

Molly quickly glanced around the camp. The bandits seemed to be too concerned fighting the fire to pay too much attention to them. Fjord and Yasha were standing guard. And Caleb...Molly's eyes stopped on Caleb. He was huddled up against the wall of the hut, his head in his hands. Those vicious thoughts - _he's weak, leave him_ \- were bubbling up in Molly's mind again. _Shit._ Molly pulled himself to his feet and snatched up his axe. What was wrong with him? He hoped it was just the pain and exhaustion coming out in the wrong ways.

“Whoo!” Beau shouted as she flung herself from the hut. “Prison break!”

“Beauregard!” Fjord was already taking control. “You saw them move the cart up to that big ole command tent?”

“Uh...yeah, yeah! It had all our shit in it.” She was already starting to move in a direction.

“Beau, Yasha, think you can both lead the charge up to that tent? Good. Nott, can you stick to the shadows, stay outta sight and just keep doing what you do best with that crossbow o’ yours?”

“You got it, pardner!” Molly couldn't even see where Nott was, though he heard her reply.

Fjord continued. “I'm gonna stick back with Molly and Caleb.”

Beau and Yasha were already moving.

“Molly,” began Fjord. “You think you can fight?”

“Ah...I've been fighting all day, what's a few more hours?”

“Doubt it'll take that long, but good.” Fjord nodded to Caleb. “Him though…”

“Let's just get out of here.”

Molly grabbed Caleb once again and tugged him along, gentler this time. He followed Fjord, striding just behind him.

“C’mon, Caleb Widogast,” whispered Molly as they marched. “I...if I can make it through today, so can you. We're both here together and we both survived this long and it's...shit, Caleb. Can you just look at me, please?”

Caleb's eyes darted to him for just a moment. It made a huge smile split Molly's face.

“I knew you were in there somewhere!”

Caleb said something small and hushed in Zemnian. At least he was talking, that was good. Molly would take that victory.

This shit day was starting to turn around.

 

* * *

 

 

The command tent was in sight. Few bandits dared to step in the path of the Mighty Nein. There was a raging fire to contend with and none of the bandits wanted to slow Yasha’s or Beau's furious advance. Just off to the side of the tent was the cart. Nott was already digging around inside when the rest of the group arrived.

“Just about everything is still in here!” She called excitedly. “Beau's staff! A tent, a pack! Jester’s shield and her mace, but your armor is gone. Yasha, your sword is gone, too.”

“So really most of it is gone.” Fjord deadpanned.

“Well, okay, yes,” conceded Nott. “But look! We have the cart!”

Fjord pointed to the command tent. “Reckon most of the valuables are in there. Molly, see if you can find the horses.”

Molly wanted to argue, but he was too exhausted. He wanted to destroy these cultist bandits. All of them. He blamed his own infernal blood for that, but it wasn't a bad feeling. Violence always felt good for him.

And he needed to keep an eye on Caleb.

Yasha and Beau led the charge into the command tent, Fjord and Jester immediately behind them. Nott lingered for a moment. She watched Caleb, her brow knotted with worry, and looked to Molly. He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could muster. Nott loaded her crossbow and dashed into the tent.

Molly waited a moment, listening. There was silence. Silence for a bit too long. It led Molly to wonder. Perhaps the bandit leader wasn't even here; he didn't see any sign of her in the camp.

Molly didn't have time to worry about that. He clambered atop the cart to get a view above the tents and the fire and the smoke. It was beautiful. The flames were alive and hungry and devouring the camp. The smoke was dirty and black, oily with fat and pregnant with death. He listened to the screams, the cries of anguish almost musical to his ears.

Molly forced himself to look away, to blink, and he shook himself free of disturbing thoughts once more. He felt his gorge rise. Instead, he looked back at his wizard. Caleb lingered around the back of the wagon, his blue eyes trained on Molly. He was gripping his own elbows in a deathgrip, arms crossed defensively. Molly smiled reassuringly at him before he took a breath and forced himself to scan the burning camp once more. He spotted a horse (Loo?) not too far away. It was in a panic, tugging at its tether, kicking its legs, its screaming only adding to the deafening cacophony.

“Caleb,” he called down. Caleb blinked at him. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to stay here?”

Caleb stared at him for a moment before answering, voice barely a whisper, “Ah...I will stay here.”

“That's a good idea.” Molly climbed down from the cart. His back protested, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. “Someone should stay with the cart.”

Caleb nodded. Molly put his hand on Caleb's shoulder, felt the man tense and quickly removed it.

“Stay safe. I'll be back before long.”

Caleb nodded again. Molly rushed off to the horse, enjoying the familiar feel of his coat swirling behind him.

It didn't take him long to get to Loo; his tail was mostly better and he could properly run now without stumbling and losing his balance. Loo was screaming and rearing, foam in its mouth and on its flanks. Molly grabbed the tether.

“Relax!” He shouted at the horse. In truth, he had no idea how to handle horses. Molly reached up with his other hand in an attempt to touch the horse’s face, trying to copy what he'd seen other people do when trying to calm a horse. Loo yanked on the tether. Molly grunted at the sudden, sharp pain in his back as he was pulled along with the horse.

“Would you please?” He growled. Holy shit, he really liked people much more than animals.

That's when he spotted one of the bandits quickly making her way toward him.

“Back off!” She shouted. She had a heavy crossbow strapped with iron bands trained on him.

Molly froze. At this range, the bolt from a crossbow like that would tear through him like wet paper. He weighed his options, but didn't remove his hand.

“I said back off!” The bandit shouted again. “This bolt will blast your jaw right off your pretty face!”

“Where are you gonna go?” Molly hissed. “I know about Akerion. I saw those stones. You've all made a pact with something that you can't get away from.”

“Shut up!” She stepped closer. Her eyes darted over him, stopping for a split second on the axe in his belt and the blood and brains splattered across his front. “Last chance!”

“Listen to me,” continued Molly as he invoked the magic of his fiendish blood. _She needed to obey him_ . “We don't have to fight. We can be friends _._ ”

She blinked at him.

Then her face twisted into an angry snarl.

“Don't cast spells at me you prick!” She fired her crossbow.

Molly was too slow. The bolt pierced his shoulder with ease, burying itself up to the fletching. Molly shouted and fell back from the force of the blow. The bandit was already grabbing at Loo’s tether, quickly undoing the knot around the post. Molly forced himself to his feet and cleaved at her with his axe. She gaped at him in shock, a half second too long to react, as the axe bit into her neck and shoulder. The bandit crumpled to the ground with a soft gasp.

“I'm tougher than I look.” Molly snarled at the corpse as he wrenched the axe free.

He undid the knot, trying his best to ignore the bolt in his shoulder. Holy shit, did he hate being shot much more than he hated being stabbed or slashed.

Once freed, Loo tried to run. Molly wrapped the tether around both his hands to keep the horse in line. Loo, at least, was beginning to cooperate; perhaps just content to move in any direction. He had to yank Loo to a stop when they both arrived at the cart.

Caleb hadn't moved. The man didn't even look at Molly when he called out to him. Molly huffed. He couldn't help the man now, there was no time, the fire was only getting stronger as it hungrily devoured the camp. Molly dragged Loo around to the front of the cart. He winced at the grind of metal against the bones and muscle in his shoulder, at the sharp lance of pain in his spine. Loo resisted. The horse tossed its head and reared, kicking at Molly and yanking him around.

“Stop it!” Molly snarled.

At that moment, Nott dashed out of the command tent, arms full of valuables. Fjord was just behind her. There was blood on his sword and across his chest. He rushed around the cart to help Molly while Nott threw the valuables into the cart. Yasha appeared next with Beau following close behind.

“No sign of their leader.” Fjord said once they had Loo under control and hitched to the cart. “Two devils, though.” Fjord’s face and arms were laced with tiny cuts.

“Yeah, they had these beards made out of spikes and thorns.” Beau explained. “It fucking sucked!”

“It's okay everyone!” Jester shouted as she made her dramatic appearance. “I got my bag! We can leave now!”

Nott was already in the cart. Beau was talking to Caleb quietly and helping him into the cart.

“Molly!” Jester shouted at him. “Did you get shot again? What the hell is the matter with you?” She stopped before him and poked at the wound. Molly hissed. “Do you have magnets in you, or what? This has to come out.” She wrapped one of her strong hands around the bolt.

“N-now, hold on,” Molly stuttered.

“Oh, don't be such a baby.”

“Jester,” began Fjord delicately. “Maybe it would be wise to wait until we get somewhere safe?”

“Why? Because there will be a big piece of meat on the end of the bolt and the blood will come out like a fountain and Molly will probably pass out if he's not _such a big baby?_ ”

“Ahhm, you know Jester,” groaned Molly. She was making no effort to keep her hand still as it was wrapped around the bolt. “I've lost an awful lot of blood today.”

“Yeah, what's a little more?” Jester yanked the bolt from Molly’s shoulder.

Molly swooned. He saw the gout of blood before his vision went white from the sudden rush of pain. Then came the burning tingle of magic blooming across his body. Molly's stomach churned and he gagged. Someone turned him on his side. And they were moving, bouncing, and there was fire and shouting and screams.

He was aware of Caleb beside him in the cart; blood and vomit on his shirt and coat. They were passing under through the gate, into the woods. Pain was flaring through his system.

He screwed shut his eyes, willing the night to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos! I'm glad you like it!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's finally Chapter Four! Life really got in the way of me working on this more often, but I'll be able to have more consistent updates in the future. This time around, I'm going to try my best to reply to more comments as well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and thank you for being patient!

They only stopped when they could no longer smell fire and smoke. Only when the screams had long faded into silence. Wind was tearing through the trees with the promise of a coming storm, if Yasha’s attention to the sky was any indication. Molly was glad to finally be sitting still. The rocking of the cart over the uneven woodland ground sent sharp stabs of pain through his muscles and bones, and tore at his wounds with every jostle. He sat against the front of the cart with his back to the seat, watching Nott and Jester as they took stock of their meager reclaimed possessions.

A lot was missing.

The bandits had dug through Jester's haversack and grabbed anything they thought was remotely valuable - including the dodecahedron. Molly noted the look of panic on Caleb’s face at that revelation, how he had paced frantically before Beau made him stand next to the wagon and keep a mental list of everything Jester and Nott found amongst their gear. Molly wasn’t certain Caleb was paying attention. Molly had seen him count and list before; his lips would form the names of the objects, either in Common or Zemnian, as his beautiful, sexy brain committed everything to his near perfect memory. But he wasn’t doing any of that. Instead, he was nervously picking at the wraps around his hands and tugging at his coat, his eyes gazing unfocused on the wood grain of the cart.

Molly couldn’t stand watching him like that.

With a groan, he scooted across the bed of the cart until he was next to Caleb.

“Mister Caleb,” rasped Molly. He wanted his voice to come out sultry, like it did whenever he strung those particular vowels and consonants together, but it came out as a pained hiss. His voice felt like gravel in his throat.

The only indication Caleb heard him was a slight twitch of his head. Molly took a risk and reached out to brush the red curls from Caleb’s forehead. Caleb flinched at the unexpected contact, his head snapping around to face Molly.

“There you are.” Molly smiled at him.

“What is it?” Caleb asked tersely.

“Just checking in.”

There was a pause. Molly waited for Caleb to turn his attention back to Nott and Jester, but he didn’t. Instead those beautifully sad, blue eyes drifted down to the corner of Molly’s jerkin where it was visible beneath his coat. Molly felt a sudden urge to wrap Caleb up in his arms and run away. He needed to make certain his wizard was safe.

“Hey.” Again, Molly’s voice was drowning in his throat. Caleb blinked up at him. “How are you feeling?”

Caleb frowned.

“How am I feeling?”

“Yeah, you went all…you know...” Molly waved his hand over his face for emphasis. He didn't really know how to explain what happened to Caleb when there was fire all around him and he went blank. This felt both like the only way and the worst way to explain what Molly saw. “Back there. And now you're kind of just...I don't know, just standing and staring. I'm a bit worried.”

“Oh,” Caleb whispered. He cleared his throat. “Um, I am alright now. I just…” He paused. “I will be fine, ja, I-er we are much more worried about you. You have to stop trying to die all the time.”

Molly’s laugh quickly turned into a pained groan as it tore through him. It felt for a moment like he was being ripped apart. But at least it was Caleb making him laugh, telling a joke even if it was a small one. He could see the amusement in Caleb’s eyes, in spite of the wizard’s lack of a smile. Molly didn’t know if he had the energy to flirt. He hoped he did. Maybe Molly was just excessively tired and maybe was missing far more blood than he thought, but Caleb was simply too handsome at the moment.

“No, dude, seriously,” Beau interrupted them as she reached over the side of the cart to grab a few of her knives. She paused. “Shit, what's with the glare? I'm just sayin’...”

“Sorry,” sighed Molly. He stamped down the heat rising in his voice, turned it into snark. “I'm in a lot of pain right now and your face is making it worse.”

She scowled at him. “Fuck you, man. I'm trying to be nice! I am showing concern for my injured friend.”

“Oh, are we friends now?” Molly let the barest hint of his shit eating grin tweak his lips.

Beau rolled her eyes and stomped off.

“I got a tattoo for you, ya know! Asshole.”

He heard Fjord sigh heavily. Molly giggled and then burst into a coughing fit when it became painful. The playful needling felt nice. Normal. It kept the dark thoughts from twisting in his mind too much. The thoughts that told him to hurt her.

_How dare she interrupt?_

“Okay!” Nott shouted suddenly. She leapt to her feet. “Jester and I looked through everything and we have come to the conclusion that we are completely fucked.”

“Well, not completely,” amended Jester. “I mean, technically, yes, we are fucked. But also we are not fucked. Technically.”

Nott listed off all of their reclaimed gear in her scratchy voice, Jester occasionally offering an amendment. No rations. One waterskin. Three pairs of a socks and one left sock that must have been Fjord's. A pair of colorful undergarments that might have been Molly's if ever he wore underwear. Yasha's book of carefully pressed flowers. Three bedrolls and one tent. A scroll case with three spell scrolls that Caleb immediately snatched. And two potions of healing.

“Molly,” said Nott as she held out a potion to him. “I think you should have one of these. Since, you know, you prefer to have your blood outside of your body.”

Molly chuckled and took the potion.

“I will happily take that. Thank you, Nott.”

He was tempted to drink it now, to ease some of the pain and stanch some of the bleeding. Instead, he tucked the potion away into one of the many pockets of his coat. Better to save it for later in case he might need it.

The other potion went to Beau. She was the fastest.

“Are we ready to move? We shouldn't dally too long.” Fjord asked of the group. He waited for everyone to assent before driving the cart onward.

 

The sky broke open. Finally, the storm that had been building all night was released. Rain paired with sharp blades of icy hail pierced the woods; and lightning danced through the dark clouds, momentarily lighting up even the darkest places.

Molly was shivering where he stood behind the cart. He was soaked through to his bones with rain and blood and vomit. Fjord and Yasha were attempting repairs on the cart - a busted wheel, cracked against an unseen stone, and too large for Jester's _mending_ cantrip. Beau was not too far off, shouting after Loo who had run off into the woods at the first deafening peel of thunder. Jester and Nott were keeping watch...well, as best as either of them could. Nott was constantly shifting between glaring through the downpour and fussing over Caleb where he sat in the back of the cart, huddled up beneath his tattered coat and scarf. Jester was unhelpfully shouting suggestions at Fjord as he failed to repair the cracked wheel. Molly could see him growing steadily more frustrated as the minutes passed. He wasn't sure how much longer Yasha could hold up the cart, but she didn't seem to mind at least. Her face was turned up toward the sky, unblinking, letting the rain wash over her.

Molly worked his hands impatiently around the haft of his axe. His busted tail twitched.

_Useless._

“Well, what good are you!” Jester snapped suddenly.

Molly felt a disturbing curl of pleasure roll through his bones at Fjord's stunned expression.

“I-I'm trying my best, Jester!” Fjord stammered. “This wheel, it's…”

Jester huffed.

“Guys, guys, guys!” They all turned, interrupted by Beau rushing toward them from between the trees. “We gotta move!”

“Where's Loo?” Fjord asked with a grunt as he rose to his feet. Yasha let the cart drop into the mud. Caleb wobbled.

“Ah, fuck that stupid horse! We gotta go. Those bandits or cultists or whatever are headed right towards us!”

Molly was already grabbing Caleb and pulling him out of the cart. He couldn’t leave his wizard behind. Caleb let out a yelp at the rough treatment, but he managed to keep his footing. Fjord and Yasha and Beau were grabbing what they could from the cart as Nott scampered over to Caleb, shooting Molly a glare.

“Caleb,” she began.

“I am alright, Nott,” interrupted Caleb. He took Molly's hand from his coat, briefly making eye contact. “I am alright.”

Molly felt guilt roll through him. “Caleb…”

“Really, I am fine. You do not have to babysit me.”

“Can you two stop making out,” shouted Beau over the rain as she slung a pack over her shoulders.

Fjord and Jester were already disappearing into the woods, hidden - at least partly - by sheets of rain and hail. Beau turned and rushed after them with her quarterstaff ready in hand. Yasha waited for Molly and Caleb and Nott before she followed, taking up the rear. They fled through the woods, just rushing off in any direction, with the rain and hail drowning out the frantic pounding of feet and the clang of armor and weapons. Molly stuck close to Caleb - both to guard the center and to keep the wizard in his sights. His wizard.

His Caleb.

_His. Mine._

A screech pierced Molly's ears. And then another. And another, until it grew into a deafening cacophony.

“What the fuck!” Beau hissed, one hand clamped over an ear, the other tightly gripping her quarterstaff.

Something - no, several somethings were moving above their heads. Fjord gave the order to tighten formation. Molly fought back the growl that rose in his throat and fell in line beside Beau, his battle buddy.

But they had no time.

Blazing out of the darkness came a winged creature, about the size of Nott, and covered in sharp, razor thin needles. It burst through the center of their formation, stabbing frantically with a pronged spear. Nott was squealing. Yasha slapped it out of the sky with her cracked spear just as several more of the creatures appeared. The creatures formed a blanket above the Mighty Nein, stabbing downward at heads and shoulders and necks with their spears. Molly wished he had his scimitar - either of them - and not this stupid axe. It was too heavy. Too slow. He couldn't hit fuck all with it. A frustrated snarl tore through him as one of the creatures plunged a spear into his shoulder. He could feel himself flagging again. His knees going weak and arms turning to lead. He couldn't take much more of this abuse.

Molly felt one of the prongs of the spear grinding against his clavicle as the creature withdrew. He swatted at it desperately with his axe, but missed horribly. Beau had his back. She smacked one away from above him with the end of her staff, snapping its neck; then swung back at the fleeing creature to drive it into the ground.

A rhythmic, ringing boom echoed through the trees above the rain. The sound of a blade on a metal rim.

“You assholes are dead!” Came a shout in a raspy, masculine voice.

From out of the darkness, between the trees and rain, stepped the human woman with the lopsided, nasal helm and the massive, round shield. She was banging Summer’s Dance against the metal rim of her shield as half a dozen bandits fanned out around her. Just behind her followed a tiefling with curled horns that curved back around his head and twisted upward. He was a deep, violent red; a drop of blood.

Cupping a hand around his mouth, the tiefling shouted with his magically amplified voice above the din, “You've only made it worse for yourselves!”

They were outnumbered, wounded and tired. This was a fight they had no hope of winning. Molly felt that familiar flood of desperation and dread flood his gut. If they stood and fought, Molly was certain they would die.

That he would die again.

“Scatter!” Fjord shouted.

Yasha scooped up Nott, batting away the spined devils with a clumsy, one-handed swing of her spear, before barreling into the woods with a roar. Jester and her double pranced off in opposite directions. With a swift spell, Caleb was gone - a blur of dirty cloaks and ginger hair that streaked into the woods. Beau rushed off, not slowing as she batted more of the devils out of the air, her steps as light and swift as wind.

“Don’t just stand there!” The woman shouted at her men. “Get them!”

The men broke ranks in pursuit with the devils fluttering after them.

“Molly!” Fjord called to him, reaching out to him with one hand. Molly clasped hands with Fjord without hesitation.

With a grunt, Fjord lifted a foot to bring it down in a mighty stomp.

“I don't think so!” The blood-red tiefling snapped his fingers with an arcane spark.

Fjord's thunder step fizzled. His foot sunk uselessly into the mud. For a moment they both looked at one another in shock.

“Fuck,” they both shouted in unison before sprinting off in opposite directions.

 

_Coward._

_Mongrel._

_What good are you?_

 

Molly was thankful for the storm. The piercing hail and occasional roll of thunder served to mask his pounding feet and panting breaths. He slowed to a trot once he felt he was far enough away. Not that he could have run much further anyway. Molly was certain that the only thing keeping him on his feet were the spells Jester graced upon him.

But now he was alone.

He was alone and his mind was betraying him. Molly had to concentrate. He couldn't listen to whatever was harassing him in his own skull. He wondered if it was Lucien or Nonagon or whatever asshole had his body before him, finally trying to reclaim what was theirs.

He didn't have time for those thoughts.

Molly found a spot beside a tree - a small nook sheltered on either side by gnarled roots that jut from the soil like knobby knees. He tucked himself up against the tree and let himself sink to the ground, legs coiled to spring and axe in both hands. The tree sheltered him somewhat from the rain, but now he was cold. Each shiver sent a fresh wave of pain through his body. He could feel the blood pouring from the fresh wound in his shoulder, and from the others that split open in the recent skirmish. Molly’s clothes had to be absolutely soaked through with blood at this point. The fabric was sticking to his skin and catching on his wounds, the irony tang of blood wafting up into his nose and mixed with the sour smell of the vomit on the front of his shirt and coat.

Gods, he was tired.

Molly let his head fall back against the tree. His horns thunked against the bark. For a moment, he closed his eyes and just breathed. He breathed deep and slow. The breathing helped the pain, but what he really needed was sleep and food and water - no, not water, a gods damned whiskey or good, dark rum, or - fuck YES - skein!

But Molly’s mind wouldn’t let him rest for too long. His mind began to race, rushing headlong into panic.

How was he going to meet up with the others? He didn't even know where they'd gone. They had no plan to meet up again.

What if they left him here?

No, they wouldn't do that.

Not after everything.

 _Fuck._ What the hell did Fjord think he was doing? Telling everyone what to do? They should've stuck together. Akerion's servants were going to pick them off, one by one. He was going to die. Caleb was going to die.

Where the fuck was Caleb? He was too weak to be alone. Molly had to find him. He couldn't let his wizard die out here in these gods forsaken woods.

Molly froze when he heard the clink of metal rings and the soft flutter of wings. His keen ears couldn't miss something like that, even in a storm like this. He tilted his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Somewhere behind him. Following his path. The fluttering came from above, just ahead of the metallic clink.

He rose slowly, keeping his back against the tree, his teeth gritted against the sharp, tearing, familiar pain that bloomed across his spine. Molly waited a moment as he listened to the sounds move steadily closer. He took a risk. Carefully, he peered around the trunk. It was the woman in her byrnie and lopsided nasal helm. Her eyes glowed faintly orange in the darkness, likely the result of a spell. Molly caught the hint of something passing in near silence above her in the tangled tree limbs.

_Kill her._

Molly rolled his eyes. He really didn't need the encouragement. He could see Summer's Dance in the woman's hand, and he really, _really_ wanted his scimitar back. But how? Molly was at an obvious disadvantage. He was badly wounded, bleeding still, exhausted, and wasn't sure how much fight he had left. And he was alone. If he had someone with him, Caleb of course, so he could fill in where Molly could not, then this might be more of a fair fight. He didn't know how many of the spiny creatures were following the woman, but he was reasonably certain it was at least two, most likely more. His only chance really was to catch her by surprise and then hope that he would be able to deal with however many of those devils were fluttering around in the trees.

This was such a terrible idea. Maybe the worst idea Molly ever had. The smart thing to do would be to just sit and hide and wait, and hope to maybe meet up with his friends later.

_Weak._

_Coward._

No.

He could easily kill her.

He was Mollymauk Tealeaf, born in his own grave. He had defied death. His own blood was his weapon. Some moronic servant of a fiendish prince couldn’t kill him. He would throw himself at her as many times as it took to bring her down, and no matter how many times he died, he would always return.

Mollymauk Tealeaf couldn’t die.

But he still needed to be smart about this. Molly took a quick glance around the little area of the woods he claimed as his own. Trees on all sides. Clinging branches. Small, scrub foliage. The rain and hail drowning out all other sounds. A flash of lightning that briefly illuminated the wood, closely followed by a low growl of thunder. Molly was sure he could hook around behind the woman and ambush her. He just needed to keep a line of trees between her and himself; and he needed to be quick and silent.

He waited for her to be just ahead of him before spinning around the trunk of his tree and slipping further back into the woods. There was maybe forty feet between him and the bandit before he swung around wide, moving quickly from tree to tree. Slowly, he closed the distance between him and the cultist. Molly crouched low to the ground, his shoulders tense and head low. His tail was stiff, but he could feel the pointed tip of it twitching in anticipation. His lips curled back from his fangs. Both his hands were wrapped tightly around his axe. Molly felt every bit the predator and, instead of shoving that feral part of him aside as he normally would, he reveled in it. The predator in him, that fiend in his blood that he didn’t trust, was finally being let loose.

A sudden screech split his ears. Molly’s head snapped up. Two spined devils had spotted him and were diving towards him. _Fuck!_ He didn’t wait for them. He ducked behind a tree. There was a thunk just behind him as a spear plunged into the trunk. The second was just behind him. He spun to face it, letting his coat swirl and fan out to hide his form. The tip of the creature’s spear caught in the coat as Molly twirled. He grabbed the creature by the throat as it plummeted, being pulled by its spear, and slammed it into the ground. He stomped on it, ignoring the sharp spike of pain as the hooked spines poked through the leather of his boots into his ankle and calf.

The first devil was tearing through the air toward him. He caught a glimpse of a third not far behind and the human woman sprinting after it. Molly waited for the devil to get close, grinding his boot down into the creature beneath him. It squealed and clawed at his leg, but its talons and teeth were not quite as sharp as its pointed spines and could not slice through the leather of Molly’s boot. He used the creature to pivot beneath and around the devil’s spear as it struck. With a snarl, he slammed the butt of his axe in the exact center of the devil’s chest as he spun. It crumpled with a hissing breath and fell to the earth. Molly flowed through his momentum to drive the head of his axe down into the devil’s neck, neatly removing its head.

He felt like he understood Keg a lot more with this axe in his hands.

The third devil and the women were maybe ten feet away now. Molly had to put some space between them and him. He didn’t want to fight both at once.

“You have made a terrible mistake!” Molly hissed. He barely noticed when the words came out in Infernal.

He stomped down on the devil, snapping its spine, and then darted away.

“Get back here!” The woman shouted at him. “You filthy mutt! You mongrel! I’ll kill you!”

Molly slipped his coat from his shoulders as he ran. He spun it tightly around his fist, but left enough fabric dangling to use as a makeshift net. The devil closed in on him as he ran, its flight much faster than his run even in the tangle of branches. Molly waited for it to get within striking range before he flung his coat at it. The devil collapsed beneath the coat with an angry howl, struggling futilely with the coat’s weight and quickly becoming more and more tangled as it squirmed and its spines caught in the fabric. Molly spun his axe around and slammed the back of the axehead against the spined devil’s skull like a hammer. There was a satisfying crunch that sent a thrill up his spine.

The woman skidded to stop in the muddy earth. She set her massive, round shield up between her and him. The metal rim winked at him as a flash of lightning lit the woods.

Molly snarled at her. His tail was lashing angrily behind him.

“Come on!” The woman growled and banged Summer’s Dance against her shield. “Come and die. Make yourself an offering to Akerion.”

Molly bristled. She had his sword and was abusing it. He spread his stance and hunched low as they began to circle one another. His eyes darted over the woman, searching for any opening in her defenses. That shield was going to be a problem. When she ducked behind it, it almost completely covered her. He could only catch her feet from the knees down, but it wouldn’t be that much of an issue for her to drop her shield down. He could barely see her eyes peeking out from behind the top of her shield, but her head was well-protected by her helmet. And her mail armor. That would protect her against just about any cut. He couldn’t stab with his axe, but maybe if he managed to put enough strength behind a swing, he could snap or dislocate bones.

Molly had no such protection. All he had was his colorful, swordsman’s jerkin that was made for fencing. It was really designed to be paired with other armors, like a breastplate or a brigandine. A well-placed strike from Summer’s Dance would carve through him.

And the woman was clearly experienced. He could see it in the way she moved; the way her feet were always planted on something firm; her shoulders square; how she kept her eyes locked on his. She was treating him as if he was just as deadly a foe as she was. His best bet, really, was to force her to make a mistake.

She struck first. In a single step, she closed the distance between them, and drove in with Summer’s Dance point first. Molly twisted away, snarling as the very tip of the blade poked through the leather of his jerkin and sliced at the surface of his skin. He put a couple steps between them as she stepped into his space. It was clear to him she was testing him. Teasing at his defences with short cuts and stabs. Molly slapped at Summer’s Dance as she cut in, danced out of her reach. Molly used his axe more like a staff with the much heavier head pointed down, occasionally bringing it up it into a clumsy, underhand swing to put distance between them. Molly wasn’t strong enough to make use his weapon’s reach advantage and it quickly became clear to him that his opponent knew it. He could see a smile working its way across her face as she slowly wore him down.

It made him angry.

_Kill her!_

She should’ve been dead by now.

If she hadn’t stolen from him, he would’ve easily killed her. He would’ve driven her into the ground like he had done to so many others.

But then he noticed something.

She was overconfident now, taking more risks with her swings as it became more and more clear to her that he was quickly tiring. Molly played that to his advantage. He let a few swings past his defenses, took a couple minor cuts, let the blade slice away at his sleeves and jerkin. She was getting closer and closer, hungry for the kill. Until she was overbalanced. Molly took a slice across his gut while in the same instance bringing down his axe across the side of her skull with such force that the wood snapped.

_Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!_

She fell with a soft grunt. And he was on her. She smashed the rim of her shield into his jaw. Molly snarled. It hurt, but not enough. She was dazed, but still fighting. The woman had enough sense left to put her shield between them - as much as could.

_Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!_

_Drink her blood!_

He could see the side of her helm dented deep into her cheek and jaw; her eyes and mouth and nose flooding with blood. She couldn't see, but she still fought. Molly grabbed the rim of her shield, yanked it, slammed it back down into her face. Her helmet saved her nose from being completely crushed. She grabbed his horn and twisted his head around and then they were rolling in the mud. Molly was growling. He felt his nails rake and splinter against her armor. He was all instinct now. A predator forced into a fight. He wanted to tear her apart. Wanted to feel her flesh tearing from her bones.

_Drink! Her! Blood!_

Then he was above her again. There was the flash of a knife. Pain bloomed across his jaw and ear. He could see her pulse pounding just beneath a too-thin layer of blood and flesh. So tantalizingly close.

Molly tasted blood in his mouth.


	5. Chapter Five

Today was a bad day.

Caleb was not sure how this day could possibly get any worse than it already was.

He ran until he was well within the woods, over two-hundred feet from where he and his companions were ambushed, before he ducked down into a clump of foliage nestled between two trees. He was moving so quickly he nearly slammed into a tree trunk. Once there, he took time to squeeze himself as much as he could up against the larger of the two trees, and then took stock of himself. His head still hurt from when he got clobbered by one of the bandits - well, it was probably safe to call them cultists at this point - seven hours ago along the road. The rain was beginning to wash away the blood that plastered his hair to his head, but Caleb’s fingers still came away bloody when he touched the cut along his scalp.

His heart was racing.

He ran his hand over the slice on his opposite arm, from his bicep down to the middle of his forearm, where he was nearly run through by one of the spined devils.

He clenched his fists and took a deep, slow breath. With a snap of his fingers, he called Frumpkin from his pocket dimension. The cat appeared just in front of him, immediately annoyed at the rain.

“Frumpkin,” he whispered. His familiar blinked slowly at him. Caleb spoke to him in Zemnian, his native language something familiar and comforting in his mouth. “Keep an eye out for me, ja? Just circle around and if you see anything, come back here to me.”

Frumpkin mewed softly before trotting off into the woods. He felt a bit better with Frumpkin around. At least he was not alone.

Caleb reached into his coat to pull out the simple scroll case with a shaking hand. He hoped examining the scrolls would help calm his frayed nerves. It was wood, a light pine by the looks off it, and capped off with a dark, oiled leather. Caleb kept the scroll case beneath his coat as he carefully undid the buckles on the cap, trying to be as silent as possible. He trusted his coat to do a good job of keeping the rain off the scrolls. The real reason his coat was so ratty and worn was because he had yet to find a better one; one as warm, furlined, and mostly water proof.

Carefully, Caleb pulled out just the upper end, the first two inches, of one of the scrolls and read the first couple of lines of arcane text.

_Banishment._

Might be useful if more devils showed up, something he could not simply pop with a spell.

And then he pulled out the second scroll.

_Lightning bolt._

Not really his area of expertise, but he could not deny how deadly this could be. Especially in this weather.

He examined the third and final scroll.

Caleb paused.

_Planar binding._

That one he would absolutely save.

Maybe today was not complete shit.

No, it was terrible. The scrolls, while a good selection overall, were not a good trade for the lost fragment of possibility. Caleb felt the panic rising again in his chest. His limbs were going all fluttery. He _needed_ the fragment. He was not finished with it yet. It still had secrets hidden within, he was absolutely certain. He just needed more time with it, damn it! This had all been a mistake. Accepting that job had been a mistake. Coming out here to these accursed woods had been a mistake. His mind was racing now, betraying him, counting backward all the mistakes he made and piling them all together. But there was one moment it stuck on, kept coming back to, replaying a particular sequence of events over and over and over. How they had brought Mollymauk back. Why Caduceus had decided to leave them. Caleb did not know why his mind was stuck there, what it had to do with anything.

A sharp peel of thunder interrupted his rapid twist of thought. He jumped at the echoing crack of a falling tree, nearly crying out in surprise. His heart was absolutely pounding in his chest now. It felt like he could feel his own blood racing in his veins. _Fuck._ He pushed his wet hair out of his face. Forced himself to listen. It was hard to hear anything above the storm, the creaking of limbs torn apart by wind, the rain and hail pounding relentlessly against the bark and leaves and grass.

The storm was all Caleb could hear.

_Fuck._

If he remained hidden, maybe he would be okay. Maybe he would make it through the night. He wondered faintly if devils could smell blood or sweat...or maybe shit. They probably could smell shit. Caleb would probably shit himself if he saw another devil tonight. Or maybe even one of the cultists.

 _Where the hell is Beauregard?_ She was right behind him, he was sure of it. He was reasonably certain she could follow the path his mad dash must have carved through the muddy earth.

_Oh, shit._

Maybe expeditious retreat was not the right spell to cast in that moment. Damn it! Caleb should have cast something that would leave no trace, no tracks to follow through the woods. He wanted to throw up. The cultists were going to find him and kill him. He swallowed.

“Will you be quiet!”

Caleb went stock still as he heard the words cut above the storm. He listened. Heard poorly muffled voices, but could not pinpoint exactly how many there were. He took another deep, calming breath that was not so calming, and pulled out his glove of blasting. As carefully and quietly as he could, he pulled the glove over his hand and tightened the straps and buckles until it fit. Caleb wanted to save what few remaining spells he had in case he needed something big. If it came to a fight, the firebolts would serve just fine he was certain.

“Do you hear that?”

“I said be quiet!”

“No, listen, idiot, someone’s fighting over there!”

Caleb saw a pair of cultists tear past him. One gripped a spear and the other a rusted morningstar and a bullseye lantern. His eyes darted up into the trees above and he spotted one of the flying devils trailing after the cultists and cutting just ahead of them. He charted their movement as they rushed past, counted the space between the cultists and the devil. Five feet apart perhaps. He could potentially hit all three of them with a lightning bolt if he angled it up by the cultists’ heads toward the devil as his main target.

However, that would waste a scroll.

He opted to follow them instead. Frumpkin came darting over to him then, growling in alarm, his tail all puffed up. Caleb rolled his eyes at the cat and dismissed him.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” he muttered.

Caleb followed the cultists, keeping the trees between himself and them. He hoped they would lead him to his companions. Jester or Yasha would perhaps be the best of any of his companions to find; they were both beefy enough that he would not have to panic at any hint of combat. And yet. Caleb really hoped they were leading him towards Mollymauk. It was a stupid thought. Mollymauk was badly wounded, very much the worst out of all of them. He would not be much use in a fight in that state. But Caleb could not shake the hope.

It was not long before he too heard the fighting. Snarling, the clanking of metal, the crunch of bones, the wet tearing of flesh. The cultists shouted and broke out into a sprint. Caleb had no time to think. He ripped the scroll of lightning bolt from the scroll case, aimed two fingers at the devil just ahead of the bandits, angled his spell to include the two cultists below, and fired off his spell. The scroll disintegrated in his hand as a brilliantly blinding bolt of lightning arced from his fingers and crashed through the two cultists to strike the devil true. The cultists tensed up with strangled cries. Blue arcs of electricity danced over their flesh with the smell of cooked meat. They were smoking as they fell. The devil was launched into a tree, but it quickly leapt back to its feet and was back in the air in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, fuck,” whispered Caleb.

The devil screeched at him before it darted forward.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck.”

He had a feeling his glove full of firebolts would not do much of anything to the devil, but he aimed and fired anyway. Three bolts launched from the center of his palm, two striking true, the third missing as the devil teetered in the air from the force of the impact. As soon as it righted itself, it hurled its pronged spear at Caleb.

“Oh, fuck!”

He threw himself to the ground, but not fast enough. The spear stuck in his upper bicep. Caleb wheezed out a startled gasp at the sudden bloom of pain. The pronged tip hooked into his flesh, the weight keeping him from moving. Not a moment later, the devil was on him. Its spines jabbed into his body and its claws and teeth tore at his cloak.

“Neeiiiiiin!” Caleb screamed.

He used up one of his few reserves of arcane energy to cast magic missile point-blank into the devil’s face. Caleb dumped as many missiles as he possibly could into the devil. The arcane bolts tore through the creature’s jaw, knocked loose teeth, pierced its eyes, and snapped spines. It fell back in a daze, still barely alive. Caleb cursed as he tried to yank the spear from his arm. It came loose with a spray of blood and his vision swam. As the devil began to stir, Caleb smacked it with the spear. It hissed at him.

“Scheiße!”

He struck it again. It blindly clawed in his direction, its hooked talons catching on his coat and becoming tangled. Caleb used the spear like a dagger to jab up into the devil’s throat. A gout of too-dark blood splashed across the front of his coat and shirt. Caleb felt his gorge rise. But the devil was still alive. It clawed more frantically at him. The talons were more than sharp enough to shred through his coat with ease. It would not take much thought on his part to imagine those talons ripping through his soft belly. He stabbed it again.

Then both the devil and the spear popped and were gone.

Caleb collapsed back into the mud. His hand went up to his bicep, tightly gripping the muscle in an attempt to stanch the blood.

“This,” he muttered. “Is going really well.”

Once he caught his breath, he slowly rose to his feet. His head swam and he very nearly collapsed back to the earth. He took another moment to wait for the ground to stop spinning. Then he frowned. All he could hear was the storm. Caleb picked up the lantern from the ground; shuttered it so only a tiny, sliver of light shone through; and cautiously walked deeper into the wood, heading in the same direction as the cultists. He pulled his bloody coat tighter around him as he slowly picked his way through the underbrush. The fingers of his right hand were dipped into his component pouch where it was hidden in a pocket within easy reach. Just in case. His dim, lantern light illuminated a splash of lavender through the trees that could only be one thing.

Caleb all but ran, almost tripping several times. He slowed to a stop several feet away from Mollymauk’s hunched form. Mollymauk was sitting on his knees, Summer’s Dance across his lap. The tiefling’s coat was a crumpled mass of blood just outside of his reach. Just on the other side of Mollymauk’s form lay what Caleb assumed was the leader of the cultists. When Caleb looked at her broken form, he had to choke down a gag. He was well used to violence and blood and gore at this point, but something about this absolutely shocked him. The side of her face was all but crushed by her dented helmet, her face all covered in fresh blood. That was not too terrible, but her throat...it was almost completely torn away. Caleb could see her crushed and broken trachea jutting from the ruin of her torn flesh; the tear went all the way up to just beneath her chin; thick, dark blood was plastered and splattered all across the front of her tunic and armor and face.

Caleb coughed. He forced his eyes away from the dead cultist to the back of Mollymauk’s head.

“Mollymauk,” he said. His voice was strangled. Mollymauk did not move, made no indication that he heard Caleb. Caleb moved toward him after a moment’s hesitation. “Mollymauk.”

The tiefling was drenched. His jerkin and shirt were completely soaked through with blood. More blood was splattered across his chest and neck, and his face was smeared with thick, sticky gore. Globs of blood and what Caleb hoped was not flesh were dripping in chunks from Mollymauk's chin and torn lips down into his lap. Caleb could see the slight quakes and shivers wracking Mollymauk’s body now that he was close; and also Mollymauk’s unblinking eyes as he stared unseeing at some spot in the distance. Caleb recognized that look. It was far too familiar for his liking.

Caleb was not sure where to touch him. His first instinct was to grip Mollymauk’s shoulder, but he saw the wounds there. So, he carefully placed his hand on the crown of Mollymauk’s head between his curled horns. The tip of Mollymauk’s tail twitched.

“Mollymauk.” Caleb said again, a bit louder this time. His head turned ever so slightly in Caleb’s direction. “Hey there.”

Caleb flinched involuntarily when he saw the nasty cut across Mollymauk's jaw that split flesh all the way up to his ear, which was practically sliced in two. He could not understand how Mollymauk was still conscious after all the fighting and the blood loss, but that was sort of Mollymauk’s specialty, was it not? Caleb crouched beside him and set down the lantern, his other hand slipping down behind Mollymauk's neck.

“Can you talk?” No response. Again, the only indication Mollymauk heard him was a twitch from his broken tail. “Okay, ummm. I am no good at this, but I will do my best to help, okay? I will not leave you.” He waited for a response.

Silence.

“Okay.” Caleb sighed. “Mollymauk, did you drink the potion Nott gave you? It is okay if you cannot talk. I am going to look in your coat. I am still here.”

He rose slowly. He did not know how startled Mollymauk would be at sudden motion, but he did know just how ferocious the tiefling could be in a fight. Mollymauk had no reaction to Caleb's hand leaving the back of his neck, aside from another twitch of his tail. Caleb lifted Mollymauk's ruined coat from the mud and began to dig through the pockets. He remembered exactly which side of the coat Mollymauk put the potion in, but there were so many pockets. What could he possibly be carrying in all these? Maybe this was how Mollymauk escaped travelling with a backpack. Caleb checked the countless pockets methodically, starting at the top and working his way backward and down. Mollymauk’s pockets were full of treasures and trinkets. A leather carrying case that must have been Mollymauk's original tarot cards, with one weathered and battered Moon card that Caleb knew was in there. Something soft and powdery in a drawstring pouch. A coin purse that was mostly empty. Mollymauk's new, complete tarot deck that had been his first purchase in Zadash after they brought him back. A metal flask that Caleb did not recognize. A third deck of cards that were loose and completely soaked. A crumpled and stained piece of paper that was far too soaked to unfold safely. A vial of a viscous liquid that Caleb quickly shoved back where he found it once he realized what it was he was holding. A dozen loose buttons of varying sizes that Caleb had seen Mollymauk produce when he was dealing with Nott. And, finally, the potion, full and still stopped with a cork. Excellent.

 _Caleb!_ Caleb nearly jumped out of his skin at the scratchy sound of Nott's voice rattling in his skull. _I am spinning in a circle trying to find you! You can respond to this message._

“I am here Nott,” he replied.

_WHERE! You can respond to this message._

“Just give me a moment, damn it! And I know I can respond, you do not have to tell me every time.”

Caleb returned to Mollymauk's side. Once again, he carefully laid a hand on top of Mollymauk's head, and he crouched down beside him.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb asked quietly. This time, Mollymauk turned his head in Caleb's direction. Caleb, however, was still fairly certain that Mollymauk was not actually looking at him, only responding to auditory stimulus. “I have something for you.”

_It's been a moment, Caleb, where are you? You can respond to this message._

“Just go in the direction you're pointing!” Caleb almost shouted.

He popped the cork on the potion, grimacing at the bitter, medicinal smell that drifted up in his face. Caleb really hated the taste and smell of healing potions. They were thick and viscous, almost like syrup, and had a horribly bitter, herbal flavor that stuck in the back of his throat long after he drank one. Worse were the ones that had added sweeteners, like honey. There was nothing worse than a sweetened potion.

Caleb turned Mollymauk's face toward him, mindful of the horrible wound on the other man's face. He heard Mollymauk gasp. Now he was absolutely certain Mollymauk was actually looking at him. He was also absolutely certain that his own face had gone bright red.

 _I am fucked in the head._ Caleb thought.

He cleared his throat and quickly took his hand away from Mollymauk's gore covered face.

“Mollymauk,” he began, holding the potion out to him in hopes the tiefling would take it from him. “You have to drink this. You are in much worse shape than I am.”

Mollymauk groaned, but made no move to take the potion.

“Molly,” said Caleb again as he gently pat Mollymauk's back. His hand came away sticky with partly dried blood. “I know you are tired, but you have to drink this potion, it will help with the pain, ja?”

No response. Caleb waited a moment longer before thinking, _Fuck it_ , and forcing the potion into Mollymauk's mouth. He tried to be delicate, but the sharp pain in his upper arms and his own growing impatience meant he knocked the glass lip of the bottle against Mollymauk's teeth. Caleb winced. Mollymauk coughed and sputtered, barely managing to keep the potion down. A bit of color returned to his face and Caleb watched as the wound on the tiefling's face began to stitch close. But not completely. He would need more than what a basic potion of healing could give him.

Mollymauk's head dropped to the center of Caleb's chest. Caleb winced at the sudden pain of Mollymauk's horns slamming into him. His arms came up and snaked their way slowly around Caleb's middle with a pained groan that was barely audible above the storm. Caleb's heart gave a painful twist in his chest.

This was familiar.

He was immediately reminded of the few weeks after they brought Mollymauk back, how the tiefling clung to him with weak hands. Caleb swallowed.

“Caleb.” Mollymauk's voice was muffled against his chest.

Caleb could not help the smile that quirked his lips.

“Ja, it is me.” He threaded his fingers through Mollymauk's dark curls - once, before he realized what he was doing and stopped.

 _Caleb!_ He started, letting loose a curse. _We found Beau, she's coming to you! You can respond to this message._

“Where is Jester?” Caleb asked. “And, again, I know I can respond to your message, you do not have to tell me each and every time.”

_CALEB! ARE YOU INJURED?_

“No! I mean yes, but...I found Mollymauk. He is in bad shape.”

_It's okay, Beau has a potion._

“I don't need Beau, I need Jester!” Caleb snapped.

_Okay, okay! We heard her laughing and tried to follow, but we found Beau. Oh, shit, Yasha is already moving towards you! We'll be there soon, I guess! Everything will be okay, Caleb._

Mollymauk was dying. Caleb did not have much medical knowledge, not like Jester or Caduceus, but he was certain Mollymauk was bleeding to death. There was only so much a potion could do and Mollymauk's wounds were certainly too serious to be so easily cured. The tiefling was shivering against him. The image of his pale face smeared with gore, the arrow in his back, the bolt in his shoulder, the devil stabbing him, the bloodied glaive, the face streaked with tears and dirt, all were engraved in Caleb's mind and flashing in quick succession.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb asked. He put his hands on Mollymauk's back. This would be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

The tiefling groaned in response.

“Molly, I would like it if you talked to me so I know you are awake.”

“I am awake.” Mollymauk's voice was barely above a whisper. Caleb almost did not hear it above the rain, but he still breathed easier at the sound of Mollymauk’s voice.

“Can you look at me?” Caleb asked.

“Did you hear him?” Mollymauk hissed. “He told me to do it. Did you hear him?”

A sickening coil of fear licked down Caleb's spine and settled in his gut.

“Who?” Caleb whispered. He swallowed. “Who would I have heard?”

Mollymauk freed a hand from around Caleb and tapped the side of his own skull.

“He's in here.”

Caleb frowned. Mollymauk was in much worse condition than Caleb originally thought. He was delusional, likely from the blood loss and the pain that Caleb could only imagine. Where the fuck was Jester? Where the fuck was Beauregard? Where the fuck was anyone?

“He told me to do it.”

“I...Molly, I do not know what you are talking about.” Caleb was beginning to panic again. He looked up from staring at the top of Molly's head to frantically glance around the darkened woods. He purposefully avoided looking at the dead cultist with her throat torn out. Caleb hoped, hoped to the gods, that that was not what Molly was referring to.

“Fuck!”

Caleb whipped his head around. Beauregard was standing ten feet away, bloodied and bruised with a split lip and an eye that was nearly swollen shut. And she was staring, slack jawed, at the dead cultist.

“Where is Jester?” Caleb asked her immediately. “I need Jester.”

“I-I don't know!” Beauregard stammered as she dug a potion out from her pouch. “I heard her laughing and tried to follow it, but Nott found me and told me to find you. She said you were hurt.” Caleb snatched the potion from her hand. “What the fuck happened?”

Caleb shrugged as he administered the potion. Mollymauk tried to fight him off, but he was far too weak. He sputtered and coughed as the potion went down, and Caleb winced in sympathy. A low, rumbling growl rolled through Mollymauk's chest.

“I just found him here by chance.” Caleb explained. Mollymauk's grip tightened on Caleb's coat, his broken nails catching on the heavy fabric.

“He looks like shit,” said Beauregard. She proceeded to dig through the dead cultist's pockets and pouches. “Caleb, please tell me he didn't rip this asshole's throat out.”

“I hope not.” Caleb muttered.

“Make her go away.” Mollymauk snarled into Caleb's shirt. “I want it to just be us.”

“What did he say?” Beauregard asked. She pocketed a knife and pulled open the drawstrings on a coin pouch.

Caleb shrugged. “He is just muttering, I do not know.”

Beauregard gave him that suspicious look that Caleb knew meant she did not believe him. She stood up, collected Mollymauk's coat, and stuffed the coin pouch into one of the pockets.

“We should probably get him out of here. I can lead us back to Yasha and Nott.”

“We,” replied Caleb. “Need to find Jester.”

“How?” Beauregard asked.

“She cannot be that far. Nott told me she heard her laughing.”

Caleb pulled away from Mollymauk. The tiefling clung to Caleb in desperation, groaning out a “no.” Caleb took hold of Mollymauk's hands and pulled them away from his coat.

“It is alright,” explained Caleb. “I am not going anywhere without you. You will be okay, we just need to find Jester.”

“No,” snarled Mollymauk. His broken and splintered nails dug into Caleb's hands, piercing through his wraps and into his flesh. Caleb winced. “We have to stay here.”

Caleb frowned.

“We can't stay here, Molly. We have to find Jester.”

Mollymauk growled at him, his tail lashing angrily. It was actually terrifying with the blood smeared thickly across Mollymauk's face and his nails digging into Caleb's skin, so much so that Caleb wanted to pull away.

“She's not here!” Mollymauk hissed. “We are staying!”

“Molly,” said Beauregard carefully. “Man, come on. It really is a bad idea to stay here, we should get moving.”

Nott came bursting through the trees.

“Caleb!” She screamed.

Yasha was not far behind. She froze for a moment, her eyes locked on Mollymauk, before rushing toward him and scooping him up. Mollymauk growled something in Infernal and clawed at Yasha. She pressed him against her body and shushed him gently.

“Molly,” she whispered against his dirty hair in between kisses. “It's all right, Molly. It's me, it's Yasha. You're safe.”

Mollymauk stilled in her firm, but gentle grip. He began to sob. Caleb could see his shoulders shaking, hear his quiet gasps. He could only remember one other instance he heard Molly cry and that was a terrible memory. That had been a desperate, pained wailing soaked with fear and confusion. Caleb huffed a heavy sigh.

He did not have time to recover because Nott was grabbing at his hands and pulling him down to her level. Caleb winced at the pain the motion caused his arms.

“Caleb!” She was shouting. “Look at you! You're covered in blood! You have to be more careful. I can't always be there to look after you.”

“Nott,” admonished Caleb. “Be quiet! We do not know how many more of the cultists are out here and they might hear us and some of us are in no shape to be fighting. And do not worry, I will live. I have had much worse.”

Nott huffed out a great puff of air.

“You're right of course.” She relented. She reluctantly released his hands. “Yasha and I killed two, so how many does that leave?”

“Of the ones we saw? Two more and that red tiefling. I do not know how many of the devils are left or if more cultists are somewhere out here.”

Yasha was already walking. “The storm will end soon,” she said as explanation.

Beauregard glanced between Caleb and Nott, and Mollymauk and Yasha, before following the aasimar. Nott looked at Caleb for a moment before she scampered after the others. Caleb was close behind.

“Where are we going?” Beauregard asked.

“To find Jester and Fjord.” Yasha replied. “We will not get lost, Caleb knows where we are. Nott heard Jester's laugh, so we will look there first.”

 

They traced back Yasha's path through the woods. Mollymauk was completely silent, just clinging to Yasha as she carried him. Caleb found he was having a difficult time both keeping track of where they were relative to North and also keeping an eye on Mollymauk. His mind kept going back to twelve minutes ago, to just him and Mollymauk crouched in the mud and rain and hail; kept replaying the moment Caleb saw the blood and gore smeared across Mollymauk's face; the words _he's in here_ as Mollymauk tapped the side of his own head. How much of all of that was a product of Mollymauk's blood loss and how much of it was…something else? Caleb found it hard to convince himself it was anything other than Mollymauk being wounded and exhausted, but he supposed he should not discount the possibility.

Nott was scouting around them, perhaps twenty-five to thirty feet out, using her darkvision to her advantage. Beauregard was bringing up the rear, but stuck close to Caleb. He could sense her watching Mollymauk nearly as much as he was.

Yasha was right, the storm was dying off. Caleb missed the storm somewhat; even if the rain and hail were terrible, at least the sound muffled their movement.

Yet it also meant any potential foes could not benefit from the concealing sound.

And it also meant that they picked up the echoing chorus of joined battle.

Caleb groaned in exhaustion. No more fighting, _please_. Beauregard darted ahead, toward the source of the sound. Yasha hesitated, glancing around quickly for a place to put Mollymauk. Caleb was not sure what she planned to do. She had no weapon.

“Fjord!” Caleb heard Jester's shout echo through the trees ahead of them. “Stop it! I can't see him!”

There was echoing laughter. A raspy, masculine voice taunting in Infernal. An answering taunt in what was surely Jester's voice.

“Jester!” Nott gasped as she rushed after Beauregard. “Come on, Caleb!”

Caleb hesitated. He was wounded. Almost all tapped out on spells. He really only had the scrolls left. Yasha made eye contact with him before looking down at Mollymauk.

“I will look after him.” Caleb offered.

Yasha nodded once and carefully set Mollymauk down against a tree. He clung to her, muttering something Caleb could not hear, and would not let go until Yasha shushed him and removed his hands from her braided tunic. Caleb felt like he was spying on them, like this was something too intimate for him to witness. He felt a familiar coil of jealousy unwind in his gut. Yasha could help Mollymauk in ways he could not.

She did not wait for Caleb. There was no time. As soon as Mollymauk was safely on the ground against the tree, she was gone. Caleb caught the edges of the battle as he approached Mollymauk. _Hunger of Hadar_ , Caleb thought as he heard the familiar, gurgling growl and saw the wall of absolute darkness cutting through the trees. Yasha and Beauregard were dancing along the edge of the spell, shouting for Fjord and Jester.

Caleb wanted to sit, but that seemed foolish. Instead, he stood close to Mollymauk, close enough that their ankles were touching, and watched the battle. Mollymauk's tail flicked against Caleb's calf. Caleb glanced down at Mollymauk and again was shocked by his pallid and gore-streaked face. Mollymauk was smiling at him. It was weak, barely there, and did not touch the tiefling's eyes, but it was there. Caleb supposed it would have comforted him if Mollymauk did not look so terrible.

Caleb tensed, his hand shooting into the folds of his dirty coat as the blood-red tiefling burst forth from Fjord's inky morass of darkness. Beauregard and Yasha were on him in a moment, but he was gone with a snap of his fingers and a point.

“Fuck!” Beauregard shouted. Her quarterstaff bounced uselessly off the ground.

“Get him!” Jester's shout was shrill, almost frantic. Her voice was coming from somewhere within the cloud. “He needs to die!”

The tiefling reappeared fifteen feet away from Caleb, thirty feet from where he originally stood.

“You're all lucky!” He roared. “You're all fucking lucky!”

And then, with a snap of his fingers and a point, he was gone again.

 

It took them another three hours to find their way out of the woods and back out to the road. They had decided against stopping and opted to just keep moving until they were somewhere relatively safe. Jester complained loudly as she used up the last of her spells to heal up Mollymauk while they moved, mostly about how much of a weak, little baby he and everyone else were. Yasha refused to let go of Mollymauk, to let anyone else carry him, even when he began to whimper desperately in Infernal in his sleep.

Caleb had a thousand questions, but now was not the time. He knew that if they made it to the road and headed North, they could find their way to the little, nameless farming village just before midnight. When they were safe, he would start trying to piece all this insanity together.

The moment they reached the road, the storm returned, mightier than it had been before. Flashes of lightning frequently lit the sky, closely followed by the grumbling growl of thunder. No hail this time, but a pounding rain that flooded the road and made travel a slog through the frozen mud.

Even with the storm blocking out the sky, Caleb knew what time it was. They were late arriving at the village. It was an hour after midnight when they spotted the first outline of buildings at the village square. The buildings were small, modest, with aged plank walls, tiny, shuttered windows, and freshly thatched roofs. In the center of the square was a stout well capped off with a hinged, wooden trapdoor. Caleb was immediately brought back to his home village in Zemni Fields. He knew instinctively where the tavern would be; where the village meeting hall would be; where the butcher and the baker and the wheelwright and the farrier lived; and approximately how many farmhouses were scattered around the square like spokes on a wheel.

He successfully led them to the tavern. It was easy to pick out among the public buildings in the square. The tavern was smaller than just about any tavern the Mighty Nein patronized, but was still larger than every building in the square save one. It had a rather impressive chimney that was puffing smoke and a lantern with a dying candle hanging from the doorframe. The tavern was unnamed, but had a sign with a painted picture of a foaming mug and a whole, roasted chicken. Caleb knew they were lucky the tavern was still open at this late hour. Most taverns and inns and taphouses were closed much earlier in these little villages than in the large cities and towns he and his companions frequented.

“Oi, is that Ivar?” A gruff, female voice shouted in Zemnian from somewhere in the back of the tavern as the Mighty Nein entered. “I told you, you’re cut off! Get back to your Gertrude before she throttles you!”

“Hello?” Fjord called. “Are you open?”

The common room was small and cramped. There was no bar, just an impressive hearth with a table pressed up close and a scattering of smaller tables and spindly chairs crouched against the walls. The floor was packed dirt framed with flagstones around the hearth and the doorway. Two old, wooden doors were nestled in the Western wall of the tavern, one open and the other closed. The entire common room was lit only by the fire crackling in the hearth. Again, Caleb was brought back to the little village he grew up in in Zemni Fields. He did not like it at all.

A tanned, older woman with streaks of gray in her dark hair and flinty eyes strode out from the arched doorway in the far wall beside the hearth. Caleb knew that was the kitchen. She was scowling at them.

“What in the Nine Hells?” She stopped when she saw their condition, her face softening. She switched to accented Common. “By the Platinum Dragon! You lot must’ve gone through some shit to be looking like that.”

“We need rooms,” interrupted Caleb in Zemnian. She blinked at him in surprise.

“Only got one.” She answered in Zemnian. “Two copper pieces. You might be able to all fit, but it’s small.” She gestured to the room with the open door.

“Thank you.” Caleb said. He turned to his companions and told them in Common what the woman said. Fjord produced the copper pieces and handed them to the woman.

“Should I get the healer?” The woman asked them in Common.

“We mostly just need rest,” answered Fjord. “But thank you. What’s your name?”

“Matilde. If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

They all thanked her individually, aside from Mollymauk who was still asleep nestled against Yasha, and piled into the cramped, little room. Matilde was right. It was small and dark in here. There was a pile of hay and furs on one end of the room in lieu of a bed and a spindly, rickety chair. They would all have to sleep pressed together on the floor. Yasha put Mollymauk on the pile of hay and bundled him in the furs before curling up between him and the wall. Jester dumped their few belongings in a corner. Beauregard tossed Mollymauk’s coat over the back of the chair. And then they all collapsed.

Caleb made sure he was nestled between Mollymauk and Nott, his back pressed against the tiefling’s. He needed to be sure Mollymauk would make it through the night. It took a long time for Caleb to fall asleep. Mollymauk’s mutterings in Infernal were keeping him awake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared for awkward conversations!

Fire and smoke and death.

His nose was clogged with the scent of blood and sulphur. The sky was a sea of boiling, black tar and streaked with red from the driving rain. It was hot. Unbearably, painfully hot. His skin was burning and blistering.

It was just him.

Alone.

Before him, far in the distance, loomed a mountain. He trudged through the muddy ash that blanketed the earth, shoving aside the dirty bones that barred his path. He was pelted by the scarlet rain and it soaked him to his bones. He needed to get to the mountain. He would be safe there.

As he drew closer and closer to the mountain, he could see it was a mound of bloody, writhing snakes. Venom dripped from their hissing mouths.

There was a figure sitting atop the throne of snakes. Its horned skull was turned down toward him, watching his steady approach through the mud and ash and blood.

When he reached the base of the mountain, he dropped to his knees in supplication. Gore splashed up his thighs and splattered across his torso. The snakes hissed at him, lashed out, tore into his flesh with their venomous fangs and nails and grasping hands. He went willingly into the mound of writhing, bloody bodies, as the snakes pulled him into the fleshy mass.

A single command rang in his mind.

_Submit._

 

Molly jolted to consciousness. His blood was rushing in his ears as his heart threatened to split through the cage of his chest. He was covered in a sheen of sweat that plastered his hair to his scalp and made his skin itchy beneath the furs. Then came the slow, steady agony. His body was knotted with pain, throbbing through his spine and shoulders and tail and jaw and teeth. All of his muscles were sore. His very bones ached. His mouth was full of the taste of iron, his lips sticky and dry.

_Submit._

The words echoed in his mind.

This was all so sickeningly familiar. He was back to more than two years ago. Back to before he was himself, to when it felt like his body wasn't his. He was an outsider in his own skin, wrestling with his brain for control.

The nightmares were not so different then. Just as lurid, speaking to him of things he couldn't understand then, and things that he would rather not now.

Panic began to twist unbidden in his gut and skitter around in his chest like a centipede.

No, no. It would be okay. Yasha taught him how to get through this. Sight, smell, hear, taste, feel.

He could do this.

He took a deep breath through his nose, shaking away the nightmare and taking in the smells around him. Smoke, sweat, ale, musty furs, tar. A tavern? He slowly exhaled through his mouth, letting the air pass between his teeth and lips in a hiss. It was dark, casting everything in shades of gray. There was a roof low above him and a shuttered window through which filtered no light. Packs, dirty blankets, and bedrolls (ones he didn't recognize) were rolled up in the corner of the small room, where Frumpkin sat and watched him warily. He spotted his coat, jerkin, and shirt tossed over the back of a chair, fully mended and cleaned. Another thing to thank Jester for. He was surprised to see Summer’s Dance resting across the seat of the chair.

Molly tugged the blankets off his torso as he carefully rose to a sitting position. He was dressed in only his tight breeches. The furs were nice and soothing against his overly sensitive skin.

He was alone.

Would they leave him here? Alone? No, they wouldn't do that. Yasha knew he hated it, being alone; she wouldn't let them leave him here.

 

For nearly an hour, he sat there, listening to the gentle thrum of rain against the roof and letting the cool air dry the sweat on his skin as he slowly came back to himself. Usually he didn't do this alone. Usually he had Yasha with him. It was hard.

 

He tensed reflexively as the door slowly creaked open. It was just Caleb, coming into the room with a foaming mug. Molly caught a glimpse into the room beyond as Caleb entered. The common room was small, cramped, and empty aside from Beau leaning back precariously in a chair. From what Molly could gather, this was a single floor tavern - one of those places where everything was just a bit too close together and the bedrooms were meant to house as many individuals as possible and the kitchen and the hearth were the same thing and it was run by an overworked woman and maybe her children. Molly loved places like this just as much as he loved places like the Pillow Trove.

“Oh,” said Caleb quietly. “You are, you’re awake. Uhh...here?” He handed the mug to Molly.

“Oh, thank you.” Molly took the mug gratefully from Caleb, hoping the man didn't notice his shaking hand. He should probably drink water, but beer would do. He took a deep draught; a wheat beer, golden and smooth with very little bitterness and the perfect amount of fruity hops. It tasted like summer and washed the irony taste from his mouth. His head was already spinning.

“You know, I was going to grab a few things and head back to the common room, but seeing as you're awake…” He let his voice trail off as he sat down by the packs and began digging around. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I've been shot.” Molly's words were already beginning to slur. He blamed the lack of blood and food in his body. “I feel like I've been running around in the woods while I bled to death very slowly. I feel like I've been asleep for years.” _I'm not myself, I'm someone else._

“Fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes actually.” Caleb offered. He had a scroll case in his hands. “At least if you count from me finding you awake now.”

Molly frowned and drank some more before asking, “Fourteen hours? Really? What time is it?”

Caleb thought for a moment.

“A little over an hour after noon.” He answered. “We've been in this village since last night.”

Molly hummed thoughtfully, pausing to sip more of that tasty wheat beer. Having someone with him always helped. Someone to talk to about something other than the shadow with its talons in his skin. If he could just think about someone aside from himself, he would be better.

“What about you, Caleb?”

Caleb paused as he was in the process of lighting a candle. Molly waited patiently while Caleb continued to work, striking a tinderbox, cradling the infant flame in his hands, and giving the flame to the candle.

“What?” He asked the moment the candle came to life.

It took Molly a moment to answer, briefly distracted by the play of the gentle candlelight over Caleb's face, how it caught in his pale eyelashes and flickered gold in his blue eyes. Molly cleared his throat.

“How are _you_ feeling?” He asked finally. “You went all, you know.” Molly waved his hand over his face for emphasis. He didn't really know how to explain what happened to Caleb when there was fire all around him and he went blank. This felt both like the only way and the worst way to explain what Molly saw.

“Oh,” Caleb whispered. He had a strange look on his face that Molly couldn't identify. “Um, I am okay...but we have already had this conversation.”

“What?”

“Ja...you were pretty badly hurt, so it is likely you do not remember. I think you should be worrying more about yourself.”

Molly chewed his lip. He didn't believe Caleb - not about not having this conversation, that made sense given Molly couldn't remember shit about yesterday at the moment, but about Caleb being okay. He decided against pressing him. If Caleb wanted to tell him something, he would tell him, and Molly felt like Caleb was absolutely the type of person who would respond very poorly to mind affecting spells. He clearly remembered how anxious Caleb was during the _zone of truth_ spell.

“Um, I am going to work.” Caleb explained. “I hope you do not mind.”

“Only if I can watch.” Molly hummed suggestively. Or tried to. His voice was willowy and, from what Molly was able to detect, a bit panicky.

Caleb huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head. Maybe he hadn't noticed?

Molly settled back on his pile of furs with his back against the wall and finished his beer while Caleb continued to set up his work station on the floor. He wrapped his tail tight against his body, knowing that had given him away in the past, back when it was just him and Yasha and the _nothing_. Yet, he could not help it; could only hope Caleb wouldn’t notice. He needed something to steady himself and his tail would do...but what he really needed was someone else’s touch. It helped remind him he was real.

There was less than two feet between them in this cramped room. Molly could hear Caleb's every movement; the swish and whisper of fabric against his skin; the shuffle of paper and the scrape of a penknife; Caleb's soft, steady breathing. Molly could smell him, the faint sweat and ink; old paper and musk; smoke and the irony tang of blood. It might have been the beer, but the smell and proximity was sending nervous tingles through Molly's bones. When was the last time they were even alone together? He shivered and wrapped himself tightly in his blanket in an attempt to hide the motion.

Molly placed his empty mug on the floor beside him. Caleb suddenly looked up from his work.

“Oh, did you want another beer?” He asked Molly. “Actually you should probably eat something.”

“What are you working on?” Molly asked, ignoring Caleb’s question.

“It is a spell I am trying to learn.”

“I know that, but what is it?”

Caleb sighed through his nose. “Banishment, the spell is called. It will be useful.”

“What does it do?”

Caleb reached out and took Molly's mug before he rose to his feet.

“I will get you something to eat. This will take some explaining.”

Molly watched Caleb leave. He flinched when the door clicked closed. And now he was alone. He should have told Caleb to leave the door open. He rubbed his hands over his face. Took another deep breath.

 

It was a while before Caleb returned. Molly didn't know how long, but it felt like an eternity alone in the room. He listened to the hushed voices of his friends on the other side of the door. It sounded like an angrily whispered argument; he was familiar with the stop-start, the harsh tones. He listened to countless arguments when he was traveling with the Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities. One of his earliest, _real_ memories was listening surreptitiously to an argument between Gustav and Orna from behind the canvas walls of a tent, Toya clutching at his pants and giggling at the colorful language. Caleb came into the room then, angrily hip-checked the door shut before Molly could get a good look into the common room. He was carrying a tray upon which sat two bowls of steaming stew, a heel of bread, and two more mugs of beer. Caleb sat down across from Molly, almost spilling the beer and the stew as he all but slammed it on the floor.

Molly frowned at him.

“Eat,” the man grumbled as he shoved a bowl of stew into Molly's hands.

Molly's stomach gurgled as the smell of the stew wafted over him. Smoked trout. Onion. Garlic. Tomato. He let the heat seep into his hands for a moment before diving in. It was the best thing he could ever remember eating in his entire life. The smoked trout was earthy and delicious and the tomato was sweet and the onion and the garlic made it all just so savory and warm. It was like being home, back on the road with the circus. He greedily tore off a piece of bread, dropped it into the stew, didn't even wait for it to soak up the heady broth before shoveling it into his mouth. Molly polished off his meal long before Caleb and then grabbed a beer.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. He sipped his beer, glad it was the same tasty wheat.

Caleb nodded politely with his mouth full of stew. He still looked angry. Molly watched him eat for a while longer; waited for a bit more of Caleb's mysterious anger to fade before he spoke.

“What happened out there?” Molly asked.

Caleb swallowed. It took him a moment to answer, the crease in his brow deepening (adorably) as he gathered his thoughts.

“Beauregard.” He replied simply.

Molly chuckled.

“She wants to see you, but I think she will be a bit too much for you right now.”

Molly smiled warmly. “That's thoughtful of you, Caleb.” He paused. “I do want it to just be us right now. You're like Yasha. You keep me calm and I think that's what I need right now.”

Molly didn't miss the flush that spread across Caleb's face and ears. Caleb's blush was always fantastic. It lit up his face with color, accented his adorable, light dusting of freckles. Molly jumped at any opportunity to make Caleb blush.

“Well,” said Caleb, finally. “We also have something important to discuss.” The wizard cleared his throat and set his bowl of half-eaten stew down, then turned his full attention on Molly. He paused. “What is the last thing you remember? Ah, before waking up in here, that is.”

Molly couldn't stop smiling. What the hell was going on?

“That's,” he began, the word trailing off into a hiss. A nervous laugh shook his frame. “Caleb. Did I do something?”

“Just tell me the last thing you remember.”

“Fourteen hours is a long time to be out. I wasn't hurt _that_ bad.” Caleb had no answer to that, just looked at him expectantly. “I'll tell you if you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Caleb took a deep breath.

“Ja, okay,” he whispered. “That is fair, I think.” He spent a moment in thought before he continued. “You were in and out for fourteen hours while Yasha carried you and while we all rested here. Sometimes you said things in Infernal. It was not good and it scared everyone a bit I think.”

“A bit?” Molly laughed without mirth. “What did I say?”

Caleb shrugged. “Ahh...I do not know. Jester wouldn't say, just that it was creepy, which isn't helpful. And, uh, by the time I was finished preparing a spell, you had stopped. Each time.”

Molly stared into his half-full mug. The silence between them was tense. He couldn't think of anything to say to break the silence, to hide the anxiety that was slowly hatching into fear. All he could do was grip his mug with both hands to hide his tremors. He wanted to lie, to bullshit. He wanted to shit out some nonsense to allay Caleb's fears, not caring whether or not the man believed him. But…

It was a long time before he could marshal his jumbled thoughts enough to respond.

“I had nightmares.” Molly explained in a shaky voice. “I remember going under the gate...and then it was just nightmares.”

“You don't remember all the fighting? Killing the woman with the shield and the helmet and getting your sword back?”

“No.” His voice was shrinking.

“You wanted to stay in the woods. Yasha picked you up and carried you back to the road. You fell asleep. Then you started talking.”

Molly let out a barely contained, hysterical laugh. He finished his beer.

“This, this is...this is not doing it.” He shook the empty mug. “I need vodka or whisky or something!”

“Tell me about the nightmares, Mollymauk.” Caleb's voice was gentle, but insistent and firm.

Molly was shaking now. He shook his head, dropped the mug on the platter with a heavy thud. His head dropped into his hands. This was fucked up, beyond fucked up. He didn't want someone or something else in his head. This body belonged to _him_ , gods damn it, no one else! He jumped, nearly crying out, when he felt Caleb's hand in his hair. Molly watched Caleb's face as the man scooted closer; moved his hands to cup Molly's face and run his thumbs soothingly over Molly's cheekbones. Molly sighed through his nose and dropped both hands to Caleb's wrists, holding Caleb's hands against his face.

The touch helped. It helped, but that sick panic was still churning in his gut. Molly did this with Yasha in the past, earlier in his life when the panics came often and he couldn't remember who or what he was. He counted his breaths; in through his nose, taking in the smells of the room, of Caleb. Held it and forced his eyes to track over Caleb, his dark shirt and ever-present coat; focused on the texture of Caleb's rough hands against his face and the warmth seeping into his flesh; listened to the rain drumming against the roof, the scrape of chairs in the common room, Caleb's breath, Beau's sudden, snorty laugh. Let his breath slowly out through his mouth in a hiss. He took another slow breath. And another. Slowly, slowly, the twisting and coiling panic began to unwind. He was numb now. Blank. His nerves were still tingling, but it was dull now, the panic pushed away and down somewhere to be dealt with later.

Caleb moved his hands down to Molly's shoulders, his thumbs pressed gently against the sides of Molly's throat. He kissed Molly on the top of his head and began to rise. Molly tightened his grip on Caleb's wrists.

“I'll be right back.” Caleb assured him. “I'm only going to get you a drink. I won't be far, Mollymauk.”

“Can you leave the door open?” Molly's voice came out as a whisper.

Caleb nodded. He left Molly alone with Frumpkin, leaving the door open just like Molly asked. Beau was still leaning back precariously in her chair, but she straightened when Caleb came out of the room. She nodded at Molly.

“Hey, man,” she said, her voice raised enough that he could clearly hear her. She was worried, Molly could tell. “Feeling any better?”

“Much,” he answered with a stiff nod.

Beau nodded. “Good. That’s good. Caleb looking after you?”

Molly smiled and nodded. “Yeah, he is.”

“Good,” she said as she leaned back in her chair. She brought up her mug and took a drink.

Caleb was back. He closed the door behind him as he re-entered the room. There was a clay cup in one hand and a freshly filled mug of beer in the other. He gave Molly the cup.

“This is water,” Molly protested as he took the cup.

“Ja, it is what you need.” Caleb was watching him, his face carefully blank, but Molly could see the concern clearly in his eyes. Molly did _not_ like it. He didn’t want his wizard fussing over him. “Would you please just drink? It would make me feel better.”

Molly drank the water. Caleb sat beside him on the hay and furs, close enough to be touching shoulder-to-shoulder. Molly could feel the heat radiating from Caleb’s body through his coat. It soaked into his skin and muscles. Molly’s heart was pounding with such force that he was certain Caleb could hear it. His tail curled up around Caleb of its own accord, the spade tip hooking around Caleb’s ankle. Caleb tensed.

“Sorry,” said Molly quickly. He reached back to pull his traitorous tail away with a nervous laugh. “Sometimes it has a mind of its own.”

Caleb shook his head. “It is alright. Um...it is kind of nice?”

“That,” Molly pointed out. “Was a question. You don’t sound sure.” Yet Molly found himself smiling as he left his tail where it was.

Caleb shrugged. “It is new, that’s all.”

Molly could swear Caleb was blushing. The wizard hid his face with a drink from his mug of beer, but Molly could see the color high on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Caleb set his mug aside and pulled the spell scroll into his lap. He unrolled it so Molly could see the beautiful, arcane writing and intricate symbols scattered across the fine paper like dice on a table.

“So,” began Caleb, taking on that teacher’s voice that he used with Nott. Molly shivered as he watched Caleb’s long fingers move over the page. “This spell will send a creature to another plane of existence. If I use it on a creature that should not be here, something like a devil, it will send that devil home - so to speak. I think it will be useful for what we are dealing with and probably also for anything we might encounter in the future.”

 _Gods._ Molly was fucked. His eyes followed Caleb’s hands as the wizard pointed out and described the separate runes and inscriptions on the scroll. Molly wondered what it would feel like to have those hands pick him apart. He wanted to show Caleb where to put those hands. He wanted to absolutely devour him, wanted to show Caleb how to fuck him.

Molly knew he desperately wanted Caleb since the day Jester trapped him with the zone of truth spell, when Caleb called him Mollymauk Tealeaf, reminding him who he was and that Caleb wanted him that way. Molly always thought Caleb was handsome, especially in this moment when he was all intellect, but that day...Molly had to keep his feelings under control every day since. He convinced himself to wait until Caleb was ready for a change in their friendship; until the wizard was doing better; until his mind was healthier. Molly didn’t want to wait anymore. Not after yesterday. Not after dying and coming back and then almost dying again and this _thing_ rattling around in his skull. Maybe it was selfish, but Molly felt like being selfish.

But how would Caleb respond? He didn’t even know if Caleb would be attracted to someone like him, someone who was male...well, mostly male. Molly wasn’t normally this nervous when seeking a partner. He was normally all swagger and confidence; even if he was rejected, he’d always find someone else willing or curious about a tiefling partner. This was different. Caleb was different. Molly swallowed.

_Fuck it._

Molly brushed his knuckles purposefully against Caleb’s thigh, carefully watching for a reaction. Caleb’s head turned slightly in Molly’s direction. He looked at Molly, looked away; eyes darted over Molly’s face and naked torso.

“Mister Caleb,” hummed Molly, proud of himself for keeping the nervousness out of his voice. He let his hand lay flat across Caleb’s thigh.

“What are you doing?” Caleb’s voice was tight as the words came spilling out of his mouth. His face was bright red.

Molly quickly pulled his hand away. He laughed nervously. This was already going poorly. He turned to face Caleb, letting his knee lay across the wizard’s thigh, hoping that maybe Caleb was just nervous.

“Caleb,” he whispered. If he let himself talk it would be better. “Can you look at me?”

Caleb’s eyes tracked up to Molly’s face, stopping briefly at the wound on Molly’s cheek and making eye contact for a moment, before trailing back down his neck.

“Okay.” Molly said and took a steadying breath. “You know, Caleb, I...everything went to shit yesterday, didn’t it? Everything went to shit. That was the third worst day I’ve ever had. I was probably much closer to dying than I’ve been in a long time and it feels like I only just got back and...look, it just, it feels like I got lucky yesterday. I’ve been lucky for a long time, most of my life, and sometimes that luck runs out, and I don’t want it to run out without…” His voice trailed off into a tense silence.

The silence hung in the air for too long before Caleb spoke.

“What are you trying to say, Mollymauk?” Caleb asked carefully. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m trying,” replied Molly. Why was this so damn hard? “I’m trying to say…” What was he trying to say? “To ask if you would like to kiss me?”

Caleb’s eyes darted up to Molly’s face. Molly didn’t think it was possible for Caleb’s face to darken even further. Maybe this wasn’t going as poorly as Molly thought.

“Umm,” swallowed Caleb. “I would...is that a good idea?”

“It’s just a kiss, Caleb. If you don’t want to kiss me, you can say it.”

Caleb shook his head. “No - I mean.” He took a breath. “You just told me...you just told me, not too long ago, about all those things happening in your head.”

“I know.” Molly shifted a bit more, so he was facing Caleb a bit better and leaning forward comfortably with his elbows on his own thighs. “I remember. I-I, I’ve wanted this for a while. A long time. This is me talking - Mollymauk Tealeaf. I would like it if you kissed me...and maybe, something more? If you’re willing?”

Caleb searched his face. He swallowed.

“I just,” said Caleb. “I just...I am not comfortable with this.”

“Oh.” Molly turned away from him. “That’s okay. Whatever you want.”

He forced a smile across his face to hide the pain of rejection. That hurt. This hurts. It hurts so much more than he thought it would. Molly had been rejected before. Several times. For every person who was curious about a tiefling, there were perhaps half a dozen who were put off. This was, somehow, so much worse than any other time. Caleb didn’t want him. Caleb was different from everyone else, from the handful of other partners Molly had in the past. Caleb did not want him. _Caleb doesn’t want me._ The thought was burning him.

“Um,” began Caleb, interrupting Molly’s downward spiral of thoughts. “Do you want another cup of water?”

Molly shook his head. “You know, Caleb, I think I’d rather be alone at the moment.”

“Ja, okay.”

Caleb collected his scrolls and spellbook and mug of beer and began to leave the room once more.

“Should I leave the door open?”

Molly shook his head.

“Okay.” Caleb hesitated by the doorframe. “If you need anything, Beau and I will be out here.”

Caleb paused, seemingly waiting for Molly to say something, before he closed the door with a soft click. Molly felt like crying. This was all shit. Complete shit. He was such an idiot. A complete, absolute moron. Of course it would turn out like this. He tugged his furs tightly around him and dropped onto the pile of hay with his back to the door. Molly didn’t care where his mind went at the moment. Let that shadow at his back claim him.

 

Molly woke to the sound of the door creaking open.

“Why is he alone?” Yasha. “He hates to be alone. You said you would look after him.”

Molly looked over his shoulder at her. His eyes hurt. He could hear Caleb and Beau trying to form words, but Yasha slammed the door before they could properly respond. Molly could feel the walls and floor shake, could see the dust drifting down from the ceiling. Frumpkin hissed at her from his perch on the pile of packs. She took a single, giant step and plopped herself down beside him.

“Molly.” She said.

“Hey.” Molly replied weakly.

“Why are you alone?” She asked gently as she brushed his hair away from his face.

Molly closed his eyes. Yasha’s gentle touches were always good for him. He felt the tears returning.

“I wanted to be alone.” He choked. His voice was shaky. He hated it.

Molly could imagine Yasha’s frown.

“What? Why?” She was firm, yet kind in a way that Molly was grateful for.

He opened his eyes to look at her.

“I,” he began slowly. “I asked Caleb to kiss me.”

“Oh.” Yasha’s features smoothed over. She dragged her fingers through Molly’s hair.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Not about this, you aren’t.” Yasha told him, shaking her head. Her braids cascaded around her shoulders in ripples. “You told him what you wanted and that is good.”

Molly sniffled, brought a hand up to wipe away the tears from his face.

“He’s probably just,” she began slowly. She paused and then started again. “You were out of your head yesterday. The both of you were. I do not know a lot of things - not like you or like him - but I do know what I would have done.”

A roguish smile twisted across Molly’s face.

“You mean you know what you would have done if Beau asked you to kiss her.”

She tightened a hand around the base of his horn, applying enough pressure to make him squirm uncomfortably, but not enough to hurt. Her cheeks were bright red. Molly counted this as a victory.

“You,” hissed Yasha. “Were out of your head yesterday.”

Molly took a deep breath. Maybe she was right. What did he expect Caleb to think after their conversation and Molly’s general attitude? But the doubt was still there. He was so desperate for Caleb to like him, to want him like he wanted Caleb. This was all too new. This was a new pain that Molly didn’t know how to unwrap and examine, how to even talk about it.

He needed more than just Yasha’s hand in his hair. Molly wiggled closer to her until she pulled his head and shoulders into her lap. He closed his eyes against the tears. Her fingers tangled further into his hair.

“I should’ve stayed.” Yasha said. “I’m sorry.”

Molly shook his head. “You had to go out in the storm, I understand.”

They were silent for a stretch. Molly forced the tears and the uncategorized pain and emotion aside.

“The storm stopped.” Yasha told him.

“Is that why you came back?”

He looked up at her. She nodded.

“Where is everyone else?”

“They are looking for clues.” Yasha explained.

Molly frowned. He wanted to laugh.

“That’s a terrible idea.” He giggled. “A tiefling - who you just know is going to cause mischief - a goblin, and a half-orc. We both know how these tiny, farm villages are. We got run out of several.”

Yasha smiled at him. “That’s true. I trust them, though, don’t you?”

“I trust Fjord. The Detectives I’m not so sure about.”

Yasha laughed quietly. They sat in companionable silence, Yasha with her fingers in Molly's hair. Molly hoped Yasha knew how grateful he was for her. She must, she knew everything about him; every tiny detail, even things he often forgot. After what must've been an eternity, Molly began to drift back to sleep.

Then there was shouting. Molly bolted upright, pain lancing through both his shoulders and down his spine, but Yasha held him.

“It’s alright.” She said gently.

Then Molly recognized the voices. Nott's scratchy voice as she shouted excitedly. Fjord's drawl as he tried desperately to dad them all into calming down. Jester's unique accent and bright voice as she talked over Fjord, her voice joining with Nott's into an impossible to discern cacophony.

“WAIT!” Jester shouted. “He's awake?”

Molly heard her stomping across the floor of the tavern before the door opened with a bang.

“Oi!” Shouted a women who Molly assumed was the innkeeper. “Stop slamming doors!”

Jester stood in the doorway, her densely muscled arms outstretched. She took a moment to absorb the scene before her, before a bright, cheery smile spread across her face.

“Hellllooo Mollyyyyyy,” she greeted. Her posture relaxed. “Hellooo Yashaaaa.”

“Hello, Jester.” Molly returned her smile happily. She looked okay. A few bruises, perhaps, but okay. That was good.

“Hello.” Yasha said stiffly. Molly could tell she was annoyed, but politely not saying anything.

“Molly, you look terrible.” Jester continued. “Like, _really_ terrible.”

Molly snorted a laugh. “Thank you for noticing.”

“Of course!” She turned her attention Yasha. “You have to leave.”

“What?” Yasha blinked.

“Go! We have important tiefling business to talk about!”

“What business?”

Jester shook her head. “It is _confidential._ You're not a tiefling, so you can't know.”

Yasha looked at Molly, who returned a shrug.

“It _is_ important tiefling business.” He said with an amused smirk.

Yasha looked between them before rising to her feet. “Oh, okay. I see. If you need me, Molly, I will be just out here.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied. “Really. You don't have to fuss over me.”

Yasha hummed and left the room. Jester quickly slammed the door behind her. She laughed when the innkeeper shouted. Still laughing, she slid across the floor to sit in front of Molly.

“Oof,” she groaned. “That looks _really_ bad.” Before Molly could ask what, she roughly smacked her hand over the wound on his face. He flinched as a brief burst of pain shot through him before it was soothed away by the warming curl of healing magic. “Much better! Now you don’t look like a horrible monster!”

“Thank you,” grumbled Molly, his hand rubbing across the wound. It felt better beneath his fingers, still a rather nasty gash, but maybe now it would look more like the silvery scars on most of his body instead of the twisted, sickening red of the scar on his sternum.

“Oh, noooo!” Jester whined. She grabbed Molly’s hands and held them up in front of his face. “Molly, your nails!”

His nails were broken and splintered, painfully so; the black nail polish chipped almost beyond recognition. Molly shrugged.

“Not much I can do about it at the moment.”

“But,” she whined. “How are you supposed to scratch your balls when your nails look like this?”

Molly snorted out a laugh.

“Sooooo,” she began, still holding his hands in hers. “Important Tiefling Business!” Jester's voice dropped conspiratorially and switched to Infernal. “That red one, what's his fucking problem?”

“I have no idea.”

“Don't you hate it when there's a tiefling and they're a bad guy? Especially with all the devils! It's like, what are you even _doing_ , man?”

“It's tacky.” Molly agreed.

“Oh, verryyy.” Jester groaned. “Can't even be anything cooool or interestiiiing, like you with your blood stuff or like me with The Traveler!”

Molly nodded. He was beginning to wonder where this was going, but had no complaints about the journey.

“Yesterday was bad, though.” Jester continued. “Like really bad. It was so bad I had, like, nightmares and stuff. Did you have any nightmares?”

Molly frowned at her. _Ah, of course._ Molly wasn’t allowed to have a bad day.

“Jes,” he answered. “You know I did.”

“Okay, but, like, what were they about? You were saying some spooky shit about blood and it being _super hot_ , like, hot enough to hurt and fire doesn't even _hurt_ you that much, and snakes were there…”

“That's pretty much it.”

Jester paused, looking at him carefully.

“Did you,” she began to ask slowly. “Did you also...maybe, I dunno, hear a spooky voice in your head?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might not be able to have a chapter ready next week because of the holidays and being super busy with work. But I will absolutely have one ready to go the week after.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> Additional Edit: I think any interpretation of Molly's gender is valid. My interpretation is that he's male, but moving into fluidity in some aspects.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got long, so get some snacks and a drink.

“You talked to him?” Fjord asked Caleb as he slid into a chair beside him. “How'd he seem?”

Caleb took a breath. He was having a hell of a time concentrating on this conversation.

“Out of sorts.” He answered impatiently. He kept his index finger between the pages of his book to mark his place as he addressed the table. As if he could get any reading done in this state.

“He did not remember anything from yesterday...but I think he did remember having nightmares. No, he did not tell me about them.”

“Was he,” began Fjord. “I dunno, was he...himself?”

Caleb shrugged. Beau frowned.

“What does that mean?” Nott asked. She slammed her flask on the table.

They - Caleb, Yasha, Beau, Nott, and Fjord - were gathered around the large table by the hearth while Jester retrieved Mollymauk. Matilde brought rounds of wheat beer and plates of food as they talked.

“It means,” sighed Caleb, “I do not know. Something was...not quite right.”

“I mean,” began Beau, “I think we might be overthinking this, right? It's probably just because he got his ass kicked yesterday. And, ya know, I've bit people before in a fight. He probably just bit that cultist in the right spot, right?”

“And, what,” asked Fjord incredulously, “Tore her fuckin’ throat out?”

“I've done that!” Nott added.

Beau rolled her eyes. “Of fucking course you have.”

Fjord scratched his neck. “I mean...Caleb, do you think it might be, I dunno...that, uh, that demon?”

“Akerion?” Caleb asked. “That is a devil, I am reasonably sure.”

“No,” huffed Fjord, shaking his head. “I mean...that other feller. You know who I'm talking about.”

“I have considered that.” Caleb replied, picking his words carefully. “Also not a demon. He just...it may seem strange to say it, but he seemed honest. We all saw the contract.”

“No,” snapped Beau. “You saw it.”

“I showed you.”

“No, you didn't, asshole.” She leaned across the table toward him. Caleb refused to shrink away. “I didn't get a chance to read it, neither did Fjord, or Nott, or Jester, or Yasha, or Caduceus!”

Caleb waved her off. “It was a large document. You could not have read it as quickly as I did, and I did show you the document.”

“ _I didn't read it!_ ” She snarled.

“It does not matter. It has nothing to do with this.”

Beau scowled at him. “How the fuck do you know?”

“Because,” hissed Caleb. He waved his book angrily at her. “I have bothered to actually research! Have you ever willingly read a book in your entire life?”

“Yeah, I have, asshole!” She jabbed a finger at him. “You know, for how smart you are, you can be really fucking stupid.”

Caleb looked up as Mollymauk entered the common room. He looked terrible. He looked like Mollymauk, but still pale; his wounds barely healed; Caleb was certain the nasty gash across Mollymauk's jaw would scar. Mollymauk was smiling at least and owning the look of colorful breeches and a ratty, fur blanket like only he could, drawing suspicious stares from the farmers and laborers that were beginning to fill the tavern. All that was missing was the jewelry on his horns and in his ears and he would look mostly like himself. A version of himself that had been beat to shit, but himself.

Mollymauk smiled at them as he approached. Caleb quickly looked away when he noticed how puffy and dull Molly's usually vibrant, red eyes were. A pang of guilt twisted in his chest. His mind helpfully supplied Caleb with the dejected look Molly gave him over an hour ago.

“Heyyy!” Beau called out to him with a raised mug. “Come join the living, man!”

“With pleasure.” Mollymauk sauntered over to the table and dropped into the offered seat beside Beau and across from Caleb. He happily took the plate of parsnips sweetened with honey, chicken livers, and bread that was offered him. Yasha moved into the seat beside Mollymauk; she barely fit.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Beau put a shot in Mollymauk's hand. “We have to do this shot. To not getting fucking murdered!”

“Seconded!” Mollymauk agreed.

They all knocked back their shots with trained choreography, all except Jester who polished off her glass of milk.

“Feelin’ any better?” Fjord asked Mollymauk even as be popped a chicken liver in his mouth.

Mollymauk nodded and swallowed before answering, “Oh, much better.”

Caleb had to focus on his reading. He did not need to be carefully watching Molly, watching how much he ate and drank. The others were here, Yasha and Beau were here, they would look after him. Caleb was not a babysitter. _I’ve wanted this for a while._

“Good,” said Fjord. “We got some discussin’ we need to do, just waitin’ for you to be healthy enough to join us.”

Caleb forced himself to focus on the conversation instead of his brain replaying the time he spent with Molly alone. How Molly - or whatever it was in Molly's head - had asked him to kiss him. How warm Molly's hand was against his thigh. How Molly's elegant tail had curled around Caleb's body, distinctly reminding him of Frumpkin.

But how could he have been sure that was Molly talking to him?

Caleb forced himself to focus on Molly's every move, every facial expression and his mannerisms, trying to pick out any potential differences. He had them memorized, afterall.

Mollymauk frowned. “You could've filled me in later.”

Fjord dragged a hand across his chin. “I dunno...seemed important to have you here for this.” Caleb could see clearly the apprehension on Mollymauk's face. Fjord cleared his throat and continued, “Jester and Nott and I took a look round the village. Turns out those bandits’ve been ‘round here for quite a while. It's always been a problem in the area.”

“What about the skull-fuckers with the devils?” Beau asked.

“I was just gettin’ to that. No one seems to be exactly sure when that all started, but they first noticed it maybe two, three months ago. That's when people started goin’ missin’.”

Mollymauk's frown deepened. He folded his arms atop the table, leaning forward. It seemed like he was about to say something when Beau interrupted him.

“So what's our play?” She asked. “Where's the contact? We got a job we gotta do.”

Fjord shrugged.

“We know, we know!” Jester said excitedly, Nott echoing her shouts.

“Keep it down!” Shouted one of the farmers.

Jester blew a raspberry at him. “Who are you? My dad? No, he's blue!”

“Yeah,” said Nott. “You're not sweaty enough either!”

Jester plopped back down in her chair.

“Anywaaayyyyyy,” she continued. “We know what happened to the contact!”

“No, we don't.” Fjord countered.

“Yeswedo!” Nott quickly shouted over him. “They have to be one of the bandits!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Jester was bouncing excitedly in her chair. “How else would no one know where this guy is or whooo?”

“Have you considered that maybe he kept that a secret from everyone?” Fjord asked.

Nott and Jester narrowed their eyes at Fjord.

“Fjord,” said Nott. “You're not a detective, so I don't think you would understand how unlikely that is.”

Fjord threw his hands up. “You ain't a detective either! Neither of you are!”

“It's a lifestyle!” Nott shouted at him. She was standing up on the table, jabbing a fork at him. Caleb always thought she looked far more terrifying with that doll mask than with her jagged fangs exposed.

“Shut the fuck up!” Another of the villagers was shouting at them, standing up from his seat.

“Sorry, sorry,” apologized Mollymauk. When he turned his head, Caleb could see the gruesome wound pulling the skin on his face. It must have been painful even though it was mostly healed at this point. “I'll buy you a round.” He turned back to the table. “Come on. Let's at least try to behave ourselves for once, this isn't the Leaky Tap. These people work hard.”

Nott clambered down from the rickety table, looking properly chastised. There was a lul as Caleb's companions calmed and returned to their meals. Eventually, Fjord addressed the group once more.

“I'm thinkin’,” he began. “We head back out tomorrow. Hit up some of the farmhouses we missed. This place is much bigger than it seems and those farmhouses are fields and fields apart. Maybe we should try to find any info on those missin’ contacts.” He turned to Mollymauk. “You think you're up for some walkin’?”

“Absolutely,” replied Mollymauk. He still had not looked in Caleb's direction.

Caleb returned his attention to his book, the book on fiends he picked up during their first adventure. Having Mollymauk sitting across from him and yet refusing to even look in his direction was difficult. Too difficult. Molly always at least checked on him when he came to the table. Maybe Caleb was just being selfish, greedy, a self-centered asshole. He was dimly aware of Yasha's eyes on him.

“Everyone in agreement?” Fjord asked. They all nodded, voicing their assent.

They finished their food, aside from Caleb who had lost his appetite upon seeing Molly's sad face that he was trying to keep hidden from the group. Mollymauk lived up to his promise and ordered a round of drinks for the farmers and laborers in the tavern, and for his companions as well. Maybe Caleb should talk to him...should probably talk to him. There was just something completely wrong with seeing Molly not his normal, excitedly social self; about seeing that sad, tired expression on his face. Above everyone else in their little group, Molly deserved to be happy. And besides, Caleb told Yasha he would look after him.

Caleb surreptitiously wound a bit of copper wire around his finger and whispered a message to Molly, hiding his action by rubbing his hand across his face.

 

_We should talk._

Caleb's voice echoed in Molly's mind. He blinked in Caleb's direction, gave him a slight nod, and whispered, “Okay.”

Caleb returned his full attention to his book.

“Fjord,” began Beau. “You should tell us about that tiefling - the red one. You looked all shook up after that fight. You remember that, Molly?”

“Barely.” Molly answered. “That's just about all I remember from yesterday. I want to hear it all from Fjord, though.”

“You all know,” began Fjord carefully, “I got these - this magic I can do. That tiefling...he pulled this book out of the air, like how I pull out my falchion.”

Caleb's head shot up.

“A book?” He asked. “What did it look like? Was it a spellbook?”

“Now you've done it.” Beau groaned.

“I dunno,” replied Fjord with a shrug. “Probably somethin’ similar. But he pulled it out of the air, everythin’ started smellin’ like rotten eggs - like sulphur.” He huffed another sigh. “I dunno how to explain this...that spell I cast, hunger of Hadar, I've never seen anythin’ that could see in that. He just laughed when everythin’ went dark. And then he was doing - casting these spells and had these powers that I, well, I've never seen ‘em before, but it all just seemed familiar. Like if I had a mind to, I could've done it myself.”

“A warlock,” muttered Caleb.

Fjord nodded.

“Fuck,” hissed Beau. “I'm getting real fucking tired of all this creepy shit. Your gods damned snake thing...”

“Uk’otoa.” Nott and Jester hissed in unison.

“Yeah, that fucking thing. And now this - what? - devil or whatever. Akerion. Seems like we're being haunted by this shit.” She made brief eye contact with Caleb. Molly filed that away.

Another lul. Molly ordered another round to fill the silence. He felt Caleb's eyes on him as he turned to get Matilde's attention, watching the partially healed wound on his face as it tugged at his flesh painfully. Molly winced with every movement, tried his best to hide it, even as he did another shot with Beau and Nott.

At least he felt like himself. Molly was himself again, but exhausted and in pain. It was too familiar a feeling. Too close to that month he spent cooped up in a room in Hupperdook as he slowly recovered from death.

And all the while Caleb was watching him over the top of his book.

They went through several more rounds of drinks before the table slowly began to empty. Nott and Jester went first; the tiefling having to carry the little, goblin girl back to their room. Next went Fjord, wanting to get an early start the following morning, and probably also to sleep off his drunkenness. The common room was nearly empty of patrons before Yasha decided to turn in. She planted a kiss on the top of Molly’s head before she left. Beau was, of course, not far behind.

Molly was alone with Caleb in the tavern. It was just the two of them, alone. Aside from Matilde, who was wiping down tables. Molly called her over.

“Matilde,” he said with a smile. “Do you sell wine?”

“I may have a few bottles.” Matilde answered. “Give me a moment to look.”

“Would you, please?”

“I wouldn't offer if I wasn't willing.”

She disappeared into the kitchen. Molly heard the creak of a cellar door and the sound of footfalls on aged, wooden steps. He turned back around and then, finally, he looked at Caleb. Molly forced a smile, one that Caleb did not return.

“You know,” he began, just talking with no real plan or direction. “I love little places like this…”

“This sounds like the beginning of a bullshit story.”

Molly laughed. “Maybe it is. Wouldn't it be nice to hear one, though? I could use a bit of bullshit.”

Caleb frowned.

Silence.

Molly could feel that involuntary, nervous smile wound tight across his face.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “I love places like this. Small village taverns out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farmland. It's always so quiet, people are bored. It's just perfect…”

Molly let his voice trail off. What the hell was he saying? He was having a hard time conjuring bullshit at the moment. Thankfully, Matilde returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Alright, lovebirds.” She set the bottle and the two glasses on the table. Caleb blushed. Molly laughed as she popped the cork with efficiency.

“You know, Matilde, you remind me of my mother.”

She shot him a long-suffering look. He giggled.

“That's five silver pieces, _son_.” She deadpanned.

Molly burst into laughter. Caleb smiled. Molly reached beneath the waistband of his pants and produced two gold pieces where he kept a hidden pocket with a backup reserve of coins. No one had ever tried to steal his pants.

“Here,” he said as he handed her the gold. “For all the trouble we've caused you.”

“Oh, no,” she waved off his gold. “That's far too much. I can't take that.”

“If you don't take it, I'm just going to leave it on the table.”

Matilde sighed and took the gold.

“Besides,” continued Molly. “You remind me of my mother and I do miss her dearly.”

Matilde looked at Caleb and said something in Zemnian that sounded snarky. Caleb shrugged in response, a wry smile across his face.

“Matilde,” said Molly, stopping her before she could step away. “One last thing. If it's at all possible, I would love a bath. I'm absolutely filthy.”

“Huh, I believe that,” she said dryly. “I could get my boy to get a bath ready for you. He needs to learn to work. It'd be a bit of a wait.”

“That's perfectly alright, thank you so much.”

She stepped away, going back into the kitchen with a shout of “HARALD!”

Molly turned to Caleb.

“I like her.” He began to pour wine for himself then looked at Caleb with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Caleb nodded and Molly poured him a glass. “You wanted to talk?”

“Ja, well,” said Caleb quietly. “Um, I am just checking in with you. You seem - that is, you still seem a bit out of sorts.”

Molly heaved a great sigh. “You revealed an awful lot to me earlier, Caleb.”

“Something is wrong. I am…” Caleb took a breath. “We are all worried. I would like it if you told me a bit about what is going on in your head.”

Molly sipped from his wine glass. He couldn't pick out the flavors of the wine, too used to drinking garbage. Molly could feel that involuntary, nervous smile working its way across his face once more.

“You probably know a bit better than anyone, love.”

Caleb was watching him carefully. Molly wondered what was going through Caleb's inscrutable mind, what path that brain was wandering. Molly wished he hadn't promised Jester he wouldn't tell anyone about the voice in the woods, at least not until they'd gathered more information. Something about how adamant, and even fearful, she was during their conversation forced him to obey her wishes. He hoped that Caleb understood, at least somewhat, what he was trying to say.

But there was something else he wanted to talk about.

“Caleb,” said Molly. “I, ahh, I feel like we need to clear the air, ja?”

“Jaaaa?” Caleb frowned. “What about?”

Molly huffed a barely audible laugh. “You know what about.”

Caleb's frown disappeared, replaced with a slight blush.

“Oh,” he whispered. Molly watched Caleb shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I just,” began Molly haltingly. “I'm, I...listen, Caleb, I like you a lot and I'm glad I met you and I'm glad we're friends. I just...let me start over.” Molly took a breath.

The ghost of a smile quirked Caleb's lips, clearly amused.

“Molly,” interrupted Caleb. “You want to talk about how you asked me to kiss you?”

Molly felt his cheeks flush dark. He shrugged and looked down at the table. Then he frowned. There were dicks of various sizes, shapes, and erectness carved on the surface of the table. One had an arrow pointed at it with a word etched in Infernal so that only Molly could read it: _You._ Jester knew how to lighten the mood even when she wasn't here.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Caleb.” Molly picked at a corner of one of Jester's etchings with a broken nail. “We could always just pretend it never happened.”

“Is,” asked Caleb, “Uh, is that what you want?”

Molly didn’t answer. He felt Caleb's eyes on him, that gaze boring into him and trying to pick him apart. Molly knew what he wanted. He wanted Caleb, wanted him more than he ever could remember wanting anything. He wanted to hold him; to kiss him and fuck him; to spend lazy mornings alone with him in a musty room at an inn; to make him smile and laugh. Those smiles were so rare. Molly tried to hold on to every memory of Caleb's smiles like a treasure.

“Molly,” Caleb began. “If, um, if you are feeling better...that is, are you absolutely sure about this?”

Molly looked up at him, face carefully hidden behind his mask of a smile.

“Caleb...I know what I want.” He took another drink. “I've known it for a while. I was out of my head yesterday, and I still know what I want. This morning…”

“Afternoon.”

“Fine, afternoon. This afternoon was rough, but I still know what I want. I fucking _died_ , but I still know what I want, Caleb.”

Caleb frowned at the raised wood grains on the battered table.

“Are you,” Caleb began and then stopped. “Ahhmm...are you sure?”

After a moment’s thought, Molly reached across the table to brush the tips of his cut up fingers along the back of Caleb's hand.

“Can you look at me?” Molly asked. It took Caleb a moment to oblige him. “No bullshit,” Molly told him. “Not this time. Not with this. I'm offering myself for a good time, with you, if you're up for it. You don't have to do anything. If you want, I can just go back to our room and we can both forget this happened and continue as we were. No strings attached here, just two gorgeous adults having sex. That's it.”

“That's it.” Caleb echoed. His face was bright red and his eyes had dropped back down to the table. “Gorgeous?”

“Caleb,” said Molly. His fingers wrapped around Caleb's. Caleb let it happen. “I think you're gorgeous.”

“Now _that_ sounds like bullshit.”

Molly giggled. “I mean it. No bullshit here. It wouldn't be fair. You're handsome, whether you believe it or not.”

Caleb shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He glanced up at Molly, looked back down. Molly could feel his smile waver. Maybe Caleb really didn't want this. Fucking hell, no one ever had disrupted his confidence like Caleb.

“Ja, okay.” Caleb whispered, breaking Molly out of his spiral of thoughts. “Two, uh, two adults. No strings attached.” Caleb paused. “I just...how can I be sure it is actually Mollymauk Tealeaf I am talking to? How can I be sure you are in your own head, as you put it? Earlier you were...I know when I panic like that, sometimes I do not remember much after.”

Molly's expression softened for the briefest of moments before it was worked apart by a twisting smile.

“You know, Caleb,” said Molly. “If you had just said that…” He paused, an idea suddenly coming to him. “Here, let me do a reading for you.”

He turned Caleb's hand over, palm up. Caleb frowned at him.

“Chiromancy?” Caleb asked incredulously.

“Of course!” Molly stretched Caleb's hand flat between his own. “Do you really think my talents are limited to cards?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. Molly carefully tugged free the wraps around Caleb's hand, mindful of his broken nails, and unwrapped the stained cloth. Ugly, knotted and ropey burn scars were twisting along the surface of Caleb's skin, a sign of Caleb's painful past that Molly could only speculate about. Molly made no mention of the scars, acted as if they weren't there; though he wanted to tell Caleb he thought they made him beautiful. Caleb was like him, a survivor. Caleb fidgeted. Molly hummed to himself - mostly for show - as he began a cursory examination of Caleb's hand.

“Obviously you're a scholar.” Molly said. “You have long fingers and this line here indicates intelligence. Also, these bumps and calluses here are from holding a pen.”

Caleb snorted. “I thought you were supposed to tell my fortune.”

Molly shushed him.

“I need to focus, Mister Caleb. I haven't done this in a long time.”

Then he went completely silent, his brow knotted in concentration. The rough pads of Molly's fingers brushed over Caleb's palm, tracing the lines and scars and bumps. Molly knew Caleb was watching his face, could imagine his brow furrowed adorably in distrust. All Caleb needed was to believe him for just a few minutes...or at least be curious enough to allow this to continue.

“You have regrets.” Molly said suddenly. Caleb’s hand twitched in his own. “These regrets are coloring your actions, and probably will get in the way in the future.”

“That's just advice. Anyone could…”

Molly shushed him again. Then the corner of his lip twitched up for the briefest of moments. He hoped Caleb didn't notice. Keeping that smile off his face was always difficult, was why he always wore a smirk.

“But there's something promising in your future…”

“Of course there is,” snarked Caleb.

Molly's head snapped up and he shot Caleb a glare.

“Really, Caleb,” he said. “You have to let me concentrate.”

“Fine, fine.” Caleb sighed.

Molly returned his attention to Caleb's hand. He pressed his lips together to hide his smile.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “There's promise in your future. Your near future. The only problem is letting yourself go, just for once, and indulging.”

Caleb groaned. Molly traced Caleb's hand once more, humming in thought. He could feel Caleb beginning to relax in his gentle grip, so he continued to run his fingers across Caleb's hand. This was nice. Molly had loved Caleb's hands since the moment he saw the way they moved for the first time when Caleb cast a spell.

“Ooohhh,” giggled Molly with a wide smile. “This is a good one. It means you have a big cock.”

Caleb yanked his hand away. Molly cackled with delight.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” grumbled Caleb. “That was insightful. About as much bullshit as your cards.”

“Hey,” laughed Molly. “Those are very real.”

“But the chiromancy is bullshit.”

“Is it? Do you have a big cock, Mister Caleb?”

Caleb blushed. As if Molly hadn't already seen it once before. If memory served, his analysis was accurate.

Molly smiled brightly at him. He leaned across the table toward Caleb.

“Now,” he began, his voice low. “About that kiss.”

Caleb swallowed. Molly was already sliding around the table toward him, awkwardly scooting from chair to chair. Caleb chuckled. Molly knew he looked a bit ridiculous, the way he was sliding around the table, but that was partly the point. Maybe it would help Caleb relax. Caleb followed Molly’s lead and met him at the corner of the table.

“That’s better,” said Molly, one of his arms coming up behind Caleb to rest across the back of his chair. His thumb slid up and down Caleb’s spine.

“Ja…” Caleb’s face was bright red.

This was happening.

This was happening and Caleb almost couldn't believe it.

The first meeting of their lips was awkward as they searched for the perfect way to slot their lips together across the space. Molly scooted closer. He wanted more. He wanted to press further against Caleb and melt into him. This was so much better than he could ever have imagined in his gropings in dark rooms alone. They repositioned, coming in for more. Caleb’s hand came up behind Molly’s head to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of his neck. Molly’s fingers dipped into the open collar of Caleb’s shirt, brushing through the thick hairs on Caleb’s chest. Heat was coiling along Molly’s spine in ripples and shivers. It pooled pleasantly in his gut as he swiped the forked tip of his tongue over Caleb’s lower lip and the other man gasped. Molly parted his lips, slid his tongue into Caleb’s mouth, and swallowed his shivering sighs.

“Alright, lovebirds,” called Matilde as she came into the common room. “Your romantic bath is ready. You'd best clean up after yourselves or I'm adding extra costs to your rents.” She looked at them both pointedly.

Molly laughed brightly, but Caleb groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“Not to worry, dear mother.” Molly rose from his seat, his hand still lingering along the hem of Caleb's shirt. “We will be on our best behavior.”

Matilde snorted in disbelief and, once again, disappeared into the kitchen.

“The bath is around the back.” She called to them from the kitchen.

“Grab the wine.” Molly told Caleb with a smile. He released Caleb's hand and pulled his ratty, fur blanket more tightly about his shoulders.

Caleb grabbed the wine by its neck and followed Molly out the doors. Molly paused once he was outside to gaze up at the twin moons peeking out from behind the scattered clouds. They were full, healthy and bright. Molly smiled. _Perfect._

Molly turned back to Caleb and gave him a smile.

“She's watching us.” He told Caleb.

“That is a bit creepy.”

Molly laughed. He held his hand out to Caleb, who took it without hesitation.

“Come on, handsome.” Molly said casually. “Let's go make Her proud.”

Caleb grimaced. “Will you stop that?”

Molly only laughed once more and pulled Caleb down for another kiss. Caleb was the first to break away, swiping his tongue over his lips and breaking the string of saliva that connected them. Molly could make out the dark flush high on Caleb's cheeks even in the darkness. He pulled Molly around the tavern, swigged from the bottle of wine and passed it to Molly. This was perfect. Molly had Caleb at his mercy. He wondered if Caleb had ever had sex with anyone like him.

Caleb stopped in front of a small shed.

“Is this it?” Molly asked.

“Ja,” answered Caleb. “We used to have these...umm, that is those of us that had the coins for it, they used to have these.”

He stepped around Molly to open the door. Molly's hand slipped into Caleb's coat and up his spine as he planted another kiss to Caleb's lips. He stepped past Caleb into the bath. Caleb followed, pulled by the faint touch of Molly's fingertips brushing over his side.

“Oh,” Molly gasped. “This is perfect.”

The shack was small, lit only by a dim lantern hanging near the door. The floors were wood, spaced just enough apart to let water drain between. And the tub - the adorable, little, wooden basin - was flush against the floor and full to the brim with steaming water. It was probably going to be a tight fit for the two of them, but Molly couldn't imagine them both being in the tub for too long.

He wasted no time. Molly hung his furs on a peg on the wall and hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his colorful pants; looked back at Caleb with a grin. Caleb followed suit, hanging up his own coat over Molly's furs - there was only a single peg on the wall - and quickly closing the half-step distance between them until Molly's back was pressed to his chest. Caleb slid his hands over Molly's bare hips, brushed the tips of his fingers lightly through the hairs on Molly’s stomach, and began to drop kisses along Molly's neck and shoulder. Molly groaned and closed his eyes; tilted his head to grant Caleb better access. Caleb was a bit too gentle for Molly's liking, his kisses a bit too soft. He wanted teeth and tongue, a light brush of pain. Molly wanted marks all across his scarred skin mixed in with his tattoos. But he loved the scratch of stubble, that Caleb was a few inches taller than him, that his calloused and cut hands were rough against his skin.

Caleb began to slide his hands up Molly's stomach, explored the lean expanse of muscles, and dragged over his chest to give his pectorals a squeeze and gently pinch Molly's nipples. Molly gasped. He leaned back against Caleb, encouraging his curious exploration of Molly's lightly muscled body. His sinuous tail curled up around Caleb’s thigh of its own accord. Caleb's hands moved back down Molly's body to tease along the hem of his pants. Molly wanted his pants off, _now_ please. He wasn't hard yet, but he was getting there quickly.

“The ties,” panted Molly. “Around my tail.”

Caleb obliged him, both of his clever hands darting around to undo the ties above Molly's tail. Molly quickly mirrored Caleb's movements along the front and peeled the fly open with a groan of relief as his erect cock sprung free. He was eager, shivering with anticipation. It had been a long time; a long time since he'd been with anyone; a long time admiring Caleb from afar; and this was finally happening.

Caleb's fingers were immediately brushing through the hairs trailing down around Molly's cock. Molly sighed, enjoying the touch, as light as it was. This was going too fast somehow. Molly was certain he'd explode the moment Caleb touched him. He swallowed thickly.

“Wait,” breathed Molly. “If you keep touching, I'm never going to make it to the tub.”

Caleb huffed a brief laugh. “Really?”

“Really. It's been a while for me, love.”

Caleb backed off, letting the tips of his fingers linger at Molly's back. Molly shimmied out of his tight breeches and kicked them off. He kept his back to Caleb, shivered at the feeling of the wizard's fingers exploring the tattoos on his back. He began to turn beneath Caleb's exploring fingers.

But then his foot slipped on the edge of the tub.

He heard Caleb let out a little shout. For a sickening moment, Molly thought he was going to fall face-first against the floor. He would have had it not been for his tail acting as a counterbalance. Instead, his foot plunged into the tub, sending water splashing everywhere. It hurt, pain lancing up his spine once more, but Molly played it off. He planted his fists on his hips and turned to face Caleb with one foot in the tub and a grin.

“Don’t I get an applause?” Molly asked.

Caleb burst into relieved laughter. Molly smiled at the sound and the way Caleb's eyes crinkled. So adorable.

Molly slid fully into the tub, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth seeping into his sore muscles, before he turned around to look up at Caleb with his arms on the edge of the tub. Caleb was still fully clothed. Not that Molly really minded, but he couldn't really imagine Caleb would join him in his boots, pants, and ill-fitting shirt.

“Mister Caleb,” called Molly in a sing-song voice. His tail was flicking excitedly along the surface of the water. “Are you going to join me?”

Caleb hummed. He seemed unsure. Molly frowned. Was Caleb changing his mind? Maybe he didn't really want to do this. Molly watched Caleb nervously tug at the hem of his shirt where it was untucked.

“Caleb?” Molly asked. “You alright?”

“Just,” sighed Caleb. He scowled. “It's stupid.”

“I'll bet two silver pieces it isn't.”

Caleb sighed again. “I'm just...I don't know, it's, you're a bit of a hard act to follow.”

“I almost busted all my teeth, Caleb. I'm absolutely certain you'll be more elegant than I was.” Molly searched Caleb's face for any clues about what was going on in the man's head. He knew sometimes Caleb's brain, as incredible as it was, sometimes betrayed him. “Caleb. I want certainty here. You still want to do this, yes?”

Caleb nodded. “Ja, I do. Very much.”

“Okay,” hummed Molly as he worried his bottom lip. He had a thousand questions, but knew pressing Caleb would possibly be the worst thing he could do in this moment.

“I just,” began Caleb, evidently planning on addressing at least some of Molly's concern. “I don't...we've never done this before, just the two of us, and...I know you have seen, uh, me before, but…” His voice trailed off.

“Not like this?” Molly finished for him.

Caleb swallowed and nodded slowly. Molly carefully watched Caleb's inscrutable face, his awkward body language, for any clues as to what was going on in his head. There was something else, he was sure. Something Caleb didn't want to tell him.

“Are you absolutely sure you still…”

“Yes!” Caleb snapped. “Yes I am sure, alright?”

Molly frowned. Again, he was stuck just watching Caleb struggle with whatever demon he was battling.

“I've ruined it,” muttered Caleb.

“No!” Molly said immediately. “No, you absolutely have not. How's this? You just tell me what you need and I'll do that. I just want you to be comfortable, this is supposed to be fun, ja?”

Caleb paused. Molly let him take his time.

“Could you...could you turn around?” Caleb asked.

“Of course, love.” Molly turned in the tub, carefully keeping his back to Caleb. Whatever he needed. Even if Molly _really_ wanted to watch Caleb undress, the other man's comfort was far more important.

He listened to the sounds of rustling fabric; the clink of a belt buckle; Caleb letting out a sigh and then padding over to the tub. Molly politely closed his eyes when he felt Caleb draw near, only opening them when Caleb was crammed into the tub across from Molly. Caleb was blushing, his eyes trained carefully on the center of Molly's chest. His knees were drawn up against his own torso, barely touching Molly's legs with his own. Molly could just see the edges of the ropey burn scars where they ended halfway up Caleb's biceps.

“Better?” Molly asked with a smile.

“This is okay.” Caleb replied.

“Caleb, love, if you really don't want to do this, you can tell me.”

Caleb huffed. He seemed to get angry again for a moment before he reigned it in.

“I do,” he said firmly. “I really do. Who would see all that,” he gestured to Molly, “and not want to touch you...or be touched. I just...I don't look like that, I look like this.”

“Love, I've told you I thought you were gorgeous.”

“You think everyone is gorgeous.”

“Okay, fair play, but you're my favorite sort of gorgeous.”

Caleb frowned.

“I mean it.” Molly told him. “You're gorgeous, Caleb. You're smart and funny and you have beautiful, blue eyes and hair that catches the sunlight…”

“That doesn't help.” Caleb muttered.

Now it was Molly's turn to frown. He didn't understand. This was something he didn't know how to fight. He knew how to help Caleb when he was panicking, when his mind left him blank, or even when he was sad. All Molly really had to do was be there. He didn't really even have to talk, just be near if Caleb needed him. But...Molly was unfamiliar with this. This was some other way Caleb's brain was betraying him, Molly was certain.

“I'm sorry,” said Caleb. “I'm weird.”

“Hey, we're both weird.” Molly assured him with a smile that Molly hoped he would see. “Don't be ashamed of your weirdness, especially if it's different from mine.”

Caleb looked up at him, but didn't return the smile. He did, however, stretch his legs out so they were tangled with Molly's. Molly could see him visibly relaxing, at least a bit, opposite him. He would, perhaps, address this later with Caleb, but only if the other man wanted to. Clearly now was not a good time.

Molly reached out, took hold of Caleb's hand, and brought it to his lips. He dropped a kiss to each knuckle and then the tip of each finger. His eyes were trained on Caleb's face. He didn't want to treat the other man like he was made of glass, knew Caleb wouldn't appreciate that, but he was paying close attention now to every tiny motion of Caleb's body, every twitch of his face. Caleb was, at the moment, trained on the motion of Molly's lips across his hand. Molly flicked out his forked tongue against the pads of Caleb's fingers, listened to him groan.

“I want you to fuck me, Caleb.” He growled. “I want you to fuck me so I can pull you apart.”

“Water is a bad lubricant,” was all Caleb could reply with. His eyes, now darkened with lust, were still trained on Molly's lips.

“You absolutely have something in your coat.”

“Not enough for that...it's enough to cast a few spells, that is all.”

Molly hummed. He slid into Caleb's lap, his knees spread as far apart as he could manage in the cramped space. Caleb's hands stroked up Molly's thighs, stopping just below the swell of his ass. Molly kissed Caleb on the mouth, slipped his tongue past Caleb's lips. Caleb sighed shakily. Humans almost always had strong reactions to Molly's forked tongue.

“Caleb,” hummed Molly. “Tell me what you want.”

Caleb's hands slid up and gave Molly's ass a squeeze. Molly groaned in response, pushed back against Caleb's perfect hands. He wanted desperately to drag his nails through Caleb's, frankly, manly thatch of chest hair.

“I think,” said Caleb in between the kisses he was pressing to Molly's throat, “I might have a compromise.”

“Oh, do share, love!” Molly's voice was needier than he wanted it to be, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care at the moment.

“I'm going to lay you out on the floor.” Caleb told him. “And then I'm going to come on you.”

Molly groaned at the image that simple sentence supplied. Molly stretched out on the floor, Caleb above him, Molly's stomach striped with cum.

“That _is_ a good compromise, love.”

Caleb began to rise. Molly slid off him, eagerly scooted up onto the edge of the tub and laid back along the damp floorboards. Caleb crawled over him, reached across into the inside pocket of his coat, gasped as Molly nipped at his soft belly. Then he was sitting between Molly's legs and warming a sweet-smelling ( _Spell components my ass_ ) lubricant between his hands. He poured more over Molly's stomach, the inside of his thighs, and groin. Molly moaned, let his legs fall apart as Caleb spread the slick over his skin. He couldn't resist pressing the tips of his fingers into Caleb's soft thighs as the other man lubed himself up, his hand stroking efficiently over his girthy cock. Molly wished he would have gone a bit slower. He could probably watch Caleb stroke himself all day.

Molly gasped as Caleb's hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Caleb gave him a few slow strokes, easily gliding over the rigid flesh thanks to the oil, and Molly's eyes fluttered shut.

“Come on, Caleb.” He growled.

His tail whipped around and wrapped itself tight around Caleb's thigh. Molly's hips rolled with Caleb's hand. It was almost perfect. Almost perfect until Caleb began to twist and corkscrew his hand up and down Molly's cock, then it _was_ perfect.

“Fuck,” growled Molly. “Caleb, come on fuck me.”

Caleb released Molly's cock. Molly snarled in protest, but was quickly silenced when Caleb pressed his own cock against Molly's. Caleb was thicker than Molly, the other man a pleasantly heavy weight against him. Molly loosed a low, rumbling growl when Caleb wasted no time moving against him. Caleb started slow, dragging his cock languidly along Molly's length. Molly rolled his hips with Caleb, each motion slightly faster than the last; tried to tease Caleb into fucking him. It didn't take him long to lose his patience. Molly wrapped a hand around both their lengths and began pumping their cocks together, giving special attention to Caleb. He wanted to unravel the other man completely.

“Fuck,” gasped Caleb.

“Yeah, Caleb,” growled Molly. “Come on, fuck me.”

Caleb spread his knees, dropped his weight atop Molly, who hooked his legs behind Caleb's thighs to force him fully against him. He rutted powerfully against Molly, pressing him flat against the damp floor with his weight. It was almost completely perfect, almost like being fucked. Molly ignored the ache in his spine, instead focusing on the fiery, slick pleasure of his cock sliding along Caleb's in his own fist. Molly snarled encouragements; twisted his fist up and down both of their cocks; nipped and sucked at Caleb's collar and chest.

“Mollymauk,” gasped Caleb. “Molly, fuck…” His voice flipped to Zemnian, pitched low and rumbling in his chest.

Molly could only moan in response. It was impossible for Caleb to be any sexier. He pulled Caleb down by the back of his neck for a messy, almost violent kiss that was all tongue and teeth. It was all so hot and fast and brutal. Caleb was panting against his mouth. Caleb's hips were stuttering, losing rhythm. Heat was coiling tight in Molly's gut, winding tighter and tighter with each thrust. He felt his balls tighten. Knew he was close. His tail squeezed Caleb's thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” snarled Molly, “Fucking hell, Caleb!”

His back arched painfully as he came, his hand working himself through his orgasm. It rolled through him in rippling waves. His muscles were twitching, tensing, cramping as he spurted rope after rope of cum along his stomach. Molly couldn't remember at the moment the last time he'd come so hard.

Caleb was still grinding against him and thrusting frantically into his hand.

“Yeah, Caleb, come on me.”

Caleb came with a shout in Zemnian, his cum mixing with Molly's into the slurry of translucent pearl and lube on his stomach. He was gorgeous; his face and neck and chest flushed red; eyes twisted shut and mouth hanging open in absolute bliss. Molly loved it. Caleb rode out the last waves of his orgasm against Molly's softening cock and inside Molly's slowly moving hand. Caleb let himself drop fully on top of Molly and slid his arms beneath Molly's in a clumsy embrace.

Molly turned to kiss him, slow and burning. He wrapped his arms around Caleb's shoulders and pulled him in impossibly close. His heart felt about to burst in his chest. This was wonderful. Almost perfect. He didn't want Caleb to see the tears that had suddenly sprung unbidden to his eyes.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Caleb was struggling to catch his breath atop Molly, pressing small kisses to Molly's throat and jaw in spite of it. Molly wanted more. He wanted all this and for it to last the next thousand years and even after that. Caleb was perfect, a perfect and warm weight atop him. His kisses were tender and sweet. It was all so good, maybe the best thing Molly ever had.

So why did he want to cry?

He was frustrated with himself. Angry at this new emotion he didn't recognize. But he put it aside. He didn't want to ruin this almost-perfect moment he was sharing with Caleb. His wizard.

“Molly?” Caleb whispered. At some point he had pulled back enough to look Molly in the eyes.

“Mister Caleb.” Molly smiled at him tenderly.

“Are you alright?”

“My back hurts,” he laughed. Not really a lie. “But it was worth it. We should do that again sometime, that was good.”

Caleb’s brow knotted. Molly pulled him down for another kiss, this one gentle. He kissed Caleb until the other man pulled away.

“You,” he murmured, “You...I should, uh...that is, do you want me to stay? I can leave…”

“No!” Molly said quickly. “Stay. Please.”

Caleb nodded. “I'll stay.” His expression was unreadable.

“Besides,” said Molly, his tail curling languidly against Caleb's thigh. “We're both absolutely filthy.”

Caleb huffed a quiet laugh.

This was almost perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos! It's very encouraging.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass. I really hard time writing and editing and it took too long to complete for my liking, bur here it is!

Caleb woke to Molly’s tail wrapped tightly around his calf. They were pressed back to back; Caleb could feel Mollymauk moving with each breath and each slight twitch in his dreams. It took Caleb a bit of convincing to get Mollymauk to sleep like this instead of tangled together like the tiefling wanted. If they were alone, Caleb would have been far more than willing to share a bed with Mollymauk. That would have been wonderful, waking up with Molly's warm weight dipping the bed beside him; his warm and sweet kisses that tasted vaguely of spicy cinnamon; the two of them just lazily spending the morning together.

Last night was wonderful for Caleb. Mollymauk looked like an impoverished noble standing in the moonlight, limned with silver; like a prince who had lost his crown. He made Caleb feel important, like he was more than garbage. Mollymauk treated him with such kindness and Caleb did not know what to do with it.

It was certainly more than Caleb deserved. Far more than he deserved. He had taken that kindness and used it to hurt Mollymauk. He remembered what Mollymauk's face looked like afterwards. The tears. Caleb was garbage. He ruined it, ruined everything. Mollymauk had only ever shown him kindness, more kindness than he ever deserved, and Caleb had selfishly taken that. Caleb was selfish. He hurt Mollymauk with his selfishness. He knew something was wrong well before he kissed Mollymauk, but Caleb took anyway. He took even though he knew it would hurt Mollymauk.

Caleb carefully removed Nott from where she was wrapped around his arm and rolled over so he was facing Molly's back. He wanted to touch that expanse of finely worked muscle beneath the tattoos and scarred skin. What right had he? Caleb was a monster, a twisted and deformed thing. A rat scrabbling around in its own filth. He gave Molly his disease, his poison.

“Fuck.” Caleb swore.

He sat up slowly, no longer able to bear the downward spiral of thoughts, the guilt. He needed to move, to do something. His internal clock told him it was a half an hour after sunrise. Molly stirred beside him, rolled over to face him.

“Caleb,” he muttered, eyes still shut. “Go to sleep.”

Caleb's heart twisted at the sound of Molly's voice heavy with sleep. He had heard it plenty of times before, but every time his body's reaction was the same. It was at once adorable and sexy.

“Good morning,” he whispered back.

Molly threw his arm across Caleb's hips.

“Morning,” came Mollymauk's barely audible reply. “You're gonna get up, but you should stay.”

Molly was being kind to him even in his sleep addled state. The tiefling snuggled close to him, pressing his face against Caleb's thigh.

“I have work to do.” Caleb told him. He could not stop his hand from stroking over the curve of Molly's horn. “I am getting up.”

Molly put up a bit of token resistance as Caleb rose to his feet. He rolled back over to Yasha once Caleb's warmth was gone.

Caleb grabbed his spellbook and headed into the common room in search of Matilde, Frumpkin hot on his heels. Preparing spells always kept the bad thoughts away, but he promised Nott and Beauregard he would eat before he ever began work. Caleb ordered a platter of food for himself and, after a moment's hesitation, the remainder of his companions. Even after all this time, it was still difficult to part with his coin for something other than his studies. 

Caleb picked one of the tables nestled against the wall to prepare his spells. He made sure to sit facing the entrance of the tavern and far enough away from the open arch of the kitchen portal to give him enough time to pop off a spell if it was needed. The past couple of days made him more paranoid than usual. He was not convinced the people in the village were entirely innocent. He was also absolutely certain that the red tiefling was looking for them.

It was not long before the door to their room swung open and out stepped Mollymauk. He was dressed only in his colorful pants and that loose, flowy shirt. Caleb watched him stretch, saw his tail curling up around itself like Frumpkin's, saw just the tiniest sliver of lavender skin as his shirt rode up. Molly smiled warmly at him as he strode across the common room.

“Good morning, love.” He greeted Caleb before stepping outside.

Mollymauk seemed okay. He was smiling pleasantly and his voice was full of obvious affection. Maybe Caleb had read too much into last night, misinterpreted something. For all the theater Mollymauk put on, he was a terrible actor. But...Caleb could not ignore the signs. Something had gone wrong last night.

Caleb tried to focus on his work, but could not stop himself from looking up as Mollymauk returned. The tiefling sauntered across the room (absolutely for show given the way his hips swung) and plopped down in the seat across from Caleb. He helped himself to the food, keeping politely silent while Caleb spent the hour it took to memorize his spells for the day. Caleb was acutely aware of Mollymauk's eyes on him while he studied.

When Caleb set aside his spellbook, Mollymauk finally spoke.

“Mister Caleb,” he purred. It was absolutely a purr. Mollymauk was a fucking cat. “How does the day find you?”

Caleb shrugged. “It is early yet.”

Mollymauk hummed. He slouched in his chair, letting his leg slide across the floor to brush against Caleb's calf.

“I feel fantastic,” he said, still with that warm smile. “We should do that again sometime.”

Caleb shushed him. His eyes darted to the door of their shared room. Mollymauk put his hands up in an apology. But Caleb did not miss the brief flicker of hurt that flitted across Molly's face.

“I can be discreet.”

“Sorry,” muttered Caleb, “I just...I don't want all the attention.”

Mollymauk smirked. His face was made for smirking.

“We can be secret lovers, Mister Caleb.” Mollymauk whispered conspiratorially, leaning into Caleb's space from across the table.

“Is uh...is that what this is?” Caleb asked. Is that what Caleb wanted? He was not certain. He certainly could not deny his attraction to Mollymauk, especially not now, but...well, it had been a very long time since Caleb had been involved in anything resembling a relationship. 

Mollymauk dropped back into his chair, that smile-mask plastered across his face. He let out a little nervous laugh.

“I mean,” the tiefling began. “I've done it before. It's quite fun. You know, running off into back alleys, coming up with excuses to sneak away, finding little shadowy corners of bathhouses…”

“That sounds like bullshit.” Caleb never liked Mollymauk's fake smile. “Um, is that what you want? Not the bullshit, but the, uh, the rest of it?”

Mollymauk seemed to be struggling with something. He still bore that nervous smile, that fake smile, but Caleb could see the brief flicker of his eyelids as his eyes darted around. Mollymauk popped a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“Did you,” asked Caleb when Mollymauk did not respond to his question, “At least enjoy last night? At the end of it you seemed…”

“What? Oh, no, of course I enjoyed it!” Mollymauk straightened in his chair. “Caleb, that was good and I would love to do it again sometime. Just...it was...I guess I just wasn't expecting to come that hard.”

“Will you be quiet?” Caleb hissed. His face was red. Molly laughed, this time it was genuine.

“Sorry,” laughed Molly. “Really, though, I had a good time and I would love to do it again.”

Caleb watched Mollymauk's face carefully for any sign of deception. He detected none, but it was still entirely possible Molly was lying for Caleb's sake. Caleb supposed he would just have to trust Molly to tell him the truth if necessary. 

“Ja,” said Caleb with a nod. “I would like that.”

Molly beamed. Caleb could not help but smile back. Then Molly leaned back into Caleb's space, a dangerous smirk worming its way across his face, eyelids drooping suggestively. 

“Why not now?” Molly asked, voice low and sultry. 

Caleb's head snapped up. His eyes darted to the closed door of their shared room.

“I would not be opposed...but…”  _ They are right there. Could you imagine if Nott found out? Or JESTER? _

“They won't know.” Mollymauk assured him. “But, I mean, if you'd rather not…”

Caleb rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw. His blood was already beginning to rush in his veins at the promise of pleasure. He remembered, clearly remembered in exacting detail, what Molly's mouth felt like; the fangs, the forked tongue; how his nearly too-warm hands felt on his skin, the fingers running through his hair; that sinuous tail coiling around him; the soft gasps and groans and shameless moans.

Caleb glanced once more at the door. He hummed.

“That,” he began, keeping his voice even. “I suppose, that would depend on what you have in mind.”

A devilish grin split Molly's face. His tail flicked playfully behind him.

“Well,” he purred. “As much fun as we had last night, I must admit that I am a bit disappointed that I did not have your cock inside me.”

Caleb snorted (though he could feel his own face heating up).

“That is an interesting idea, Mollymauk.” Caleb could play coy if he wanted to and he could not pass up the opportunity to tease Mollymauk at least a bit. “How do you think that would go? Remember…” He nodded his head in the direction of the closed door.

“You don't have to remind me, love.” Mollymauk chuckled. All that confidence he was missing last night came pouring back. “I'll tell you with a story…”

Molly grinned and leaned across the table toward Caleb on his folded arms. Caleb detected the faintest wince of pain flash across Molly's face.

“You know, Caleb,” he whispered. “I am a champion at sucking cock. An actual champion, with a medal and everything. In Nicodranas I won a competition, sucked the judge's soul right out of him.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at Molly.

“You've never been to Nicodranas. You haven't seen the ocean.”

“That's because I was far too busy sucking cock.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. Although...he absolutely could not deny how tempting the idea was of having Molly's clever mouth around his dick. He could clearly imagine how that mouth must feel, that forked tongue…

Caleb rose from his seat, Molly mirroring his movement. They all but rushed outside and around to the side of the tavern at a corner that was well hidden from prying eyes. Molly pinned Caleb to the wall, pulled him down into a deep kiss, and loosed a deep, almost predatory snarl. His hands roamed across Caleb's chest. Caleb pulled Molly against him by his slim waist. Molly grabbed Caleb's hands, forced them down against his sides.

“Would you like to try something?” Molly asked, his lips barely brushing against Caleb’s with the question. His voice was low and rumbling; that brogue became a growl.

Caleb swallowed. He felt a thrill run though him. Were they already experimenting? Was this too fast? In spite of the doubt, his mind was already running wild with possibilities.

“What do you have in mind?” Caleb asked carefully, trying to hide his excitement.

“Keep your hands here.” It was a command and Caleb shivered. Molly pressed himself against Caleb, sandwiching him against the wall. Caleb could feel himself submitting already; he already knew where this was going. “Don’t move. Don’t touch. You will keep absolutely still. If you disobey three times,  _ three _ , I will leave.”

Caleb groaned. His fingers were already twitching at his sides.

“Do you think you can do that?” Molly was gentle again, his eyebrow raised with the question. Caleb knew Molly was attempting to calm him, but he was already too anxious - no, excited - to continue down this road with Mollymauk.

“I don’t know,” he breathed. He had never done this without restraints. “But I want to try.”

Molly grinned wolfishly, his fangs poking out from between his lips. Caleb’s’ eyes snapped to those glittering fangs.

“That’ll do, love.” Molly’s hands slid up Caleb’s arms. “Tell me if it’s too much, ja?”

Caleb nodded. “Okay. I will do that.”

“Good.” Molly drew the word out into a low growl. And then he changed, fully assuming the mantle of command. Caleb recognized it immediately - the square set of Molly’s shoulders, his straight back, that piercing gaze that was only amplified by those solid, red pools. But he was still Molly, still had that self-satisfied smirk, those cocked hips. Caleb shivered. If he had to admit it, he was intimidated, but he trusted Molly, knew the tiefling would not harm him. 

All of this brought him back to the last time Molly had him pinned to a wall outside the sewers in Zadash. He absolutely had not touched himself to the memory, not ever.

“Just relax, Caleb.” Molly ordered, but it was softened enough with a chuckle that Caleb wanted to obey. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed Caleb’s forearms. “Let’s go over the rules of the game, just so we’re absolutely clear. Remember, this is supposed to be fun.

“Do not move.” Molly’s voice was a growl. He was a predator and Caleb’s heart was already racing. He wanted to be Molly’s prey. “Do not touch. Not without my say-so. Be a good boy and let me pick you apart.”

Caleb could not stop the whimper that rose in his throat. He nodded vigorously.

“I want to…”

Molly jabbed a finger against Caleb’s forehead, forcing his head back against the wall.

“I said  _ don’t move, _ Caleb.”

“I’m sorry!”

A low growl rumbled in Molly’s chest, his tail flicking dangerously behind him. Caleb could feel that growl against his own body.

“This is a warning.” He said. “I can see that you’re eager and I won’t punish you for that.”

Molly kissed and nipped along his jaw, traveling down Caleb’s throat. Caleb moaned shamelessly at the feel of those fangs against his flesh, that forked tongue. Molly tugged open Caleb’s scarf, pulled free the ties of Caleb’s shirt, and dipped his fingers into the open collar. His other hand slipped up beneath Caleb’s shirt to brush along the hairs scattered along his stomach and squeeze the bare flesh at his waist. Caleb could feel the sharp points of Molly’s broken nails poke into his skin. This was difficult. Caleb’s hands were itchy with the desire to touch. He wanted to feel Molly’s scars; the subtle textural difference between the tattoos and bare flesh; the much, much warmer skin. There was fire rushing in Caleb’s veins and sparking beneath his skin and he could not release it.

“You’re doing great, love.” Molly growled in encouragement.

Caleb sighed. Hearing Molly's praise helped calm him...at least a bit.

Molly pushed his knee between Caleb’s legs, his thigh pressing up against Caleb’s already erect cock. 

“Oh, hello.” Molly chuckled.

“F-fuck,” whimpered Caleb. His thighs were twitching. He wanted desperately to grind down against Molly’s muscled thigh.

Molly scraped his fangs along Caleb’s throat. He sucked Caleb's flesh into his mouth, worrying the skin between his teeth. His hand came down between Caleb's legs and cupped his erection. Caleb moaned. The sharp difference between the pain and the pleasure was intoxicating. 

“I'm going to devour you.” Molly growled.

“Please,” begged Caleb.

Molly sunk down to his knees in one slow, fluid motion, his hands trailing after him to stop at the top of Caleb’s thighs. Caleb’s heart jumped into his throat. Holy shit, this was happening. Caleb was panting. Molly’s ruby-red eyes were boring into him, his face and throat flushed a dark plum. He was still wearing that familiar smirk. Molly’s hands came up to Caleb’s, curling Caleb’s fingers into fists and giving them a firm squeeze.

“Love,” purred Molly as he brushed his thumbs over Caleb’s knuckles. “You’re doing so well. Don’t you think you deserve a reward?”

Caleb whimpered. Why was Molly asking him that? How could he answer that question when he didn’t deserve any of this?

“Caleb?” Molly drew his name out. “Look at me.”

Caleb obeyed. He hadn’t even realized he closed his eyes. Molly smiled at him. It was wild, ferocious, lips curled back in a silent snarl, but oh-so Molly. His forked tongue slid over his fangs. Caleb swallowed.

“I want this,” he hissed, releasing Caleb’s hand to brush the tips of his fingers across the obvious bulge in Caleb’s pants, “Lovely cock in my mouth. Be a good boy and answer me. Don’t you think you deserve a reward?”

It took Caleb a moment to reply. “Please,” he breathed.

Molly purred, clearly pleased. Both his hands squeezed Caleb’s thighs, tantalizingly close to his groin.

“Watch me,” commanded Molly.

Molly pressed his hot mouth against Caleb’s clothed erection, his eyes locked on Caleb’s face. Caleb let out a breathy moan. He couldn’t hold Molly’s gaze, he couldn’t, it was too much. But he obeyed. Caleb could feel Molly’s teeth, those fangs and tongue, moving over his erection even through the layers of clothing. Those fangs could tear him to ribbons. But he had to trust the tiefling. Molly purred as he mouthed Caleb’s clothed dick. His hands slid up to Caleb’s hips, holding him in place.

He deftly undid the laces of Caleb’s pants. His hand dipped into the open fly and stroked Caleb through his undergarments. Caleb’s hips rolled with the stroke, he couldn’t help it, and Molly’s hand disappeared. Caleb choked on a moan.

“Naughty, Caleb,” scolded Molly. He tutted, giving his head a little shake. “Strike one.”

“I’m sorry.”

Molly hummed. His hand came back to Caleb’s clothed erection. He gave him a few, slow strokes, tugging the fabric purposefully down over the head of Caleb’s cock. Molly reached into Caleb's undergarments and pulled his cock free. Caleb sighed. Molly hummed appreciatively as he eyed Caleb's dick. Caleb kept his focus on Molly's face so he wouldn't have to look at his own ugly body.

“I hope,” purred Molly. “That I'm not the first person to tell you that you have a nice cock, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb frowned. Molly was just being nice, like he always was. Caleb knew he was ugly.

“Caleb?” Molly asked. “How are you doing up there?”

“Good.” Caleb replied, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Okay. I want you to tell me if anything is wrong, love.”

“I'm fine. Let's please continue.”

Molly brushed his fingers teasingly along the length of Caleb's erection. Caleb let loose a quivering sigh.

“I bet I could split myself in half on this.”

Molly licked a stripe along his hand, wrapped his hand around the base of Caleb's cock. Caleb clenched his teeth around a moan that rose in his throat as Molly stroked up his cock and then down, slowly, tugging back the foreskin to reveal the flushed head. Molly twisted his fist through the strokes, paying special attention to the sensitive head. His eyes were locked on Caleb's and his mouth was tantalizingly close to Caleb's cock. Caleb could feel Molly’s breath brushing over his flesh. He groaned. Wanted so badly to thrust forward into that mouth. But he kept still. Instead, he tightened his fists, dug his fingers into the wraps around his hands. It helped. Gave him something to focus on.

Caleb was leaking and it was making the slick slide of flesh that much better.

“Caleb, love,” purred Molly. “I want you to tell me when you get close.”

“Yes, Molly.”

Finally, Molly leaned in, pressed a kiss to the tip of Caleb's cock. Caleb gasped out a breathless moan. Molly followed his lips with his tongue, flicking the forked tip teasingly along Caleb's head and shaft. Caleb's knees just about buckled when Molly wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. Molly slowly worked his way down and then back up Caleb's shaft, taking him in slowly inch by inch. Molly hummed, the vibrations going straight through Caleb's body, swirled his tongue along the underside of Caleb's cock. Caleb was quickly coming undone. Molly's mouth was hot and wet. That forked tongue, a brand new sensation for Caleb, was pulling him apart. And all throughout, Caleb was acutely aware of those fangs tucked safely behind Molly's lips.

Molly came off Caleb's cock with a wet pop.

“Caleb,” rasped Molly, “You taste so good.”

Caleb could not help the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. It sounded so ridiculous. Molly gave him a rough tug, but was grinning at him.

“Oh, yeah? Do I make you laugh?” Molly asked just before he took Caleb down to the root in a single motion.

Caleb choked on a moan. He wanted to grab Molly's horns, had dreamed about that, but he obeyed Molly's commands. Molly held him in place by the hips, fucking Caleb with his mouth. It was so good. Caleb could feel himself hitting the back of Molly's throat, but Molly hardly so much as gagged. All of Caleb's focus was centered on the feel of Molly's silky hot mouth on his cock. Caleb's thighs were twitching with the effort to keep still. Heat was coiling in his gut and licking along his spine in shivering tendrils. It was happening so fast, too fast, but he could not stop it. He was tumbling over the edge.

“Molly,” he managed to growl out.

“Are you coming, Caleb?” Molly replaced his mouth with his hand, stroking Caleb fast and rough. “Do you want to come on my face?”

“Yes!”

Molly’s hand vanished. Caleb shouted in frustration, his hips jerking of their own accord and his body buckling. Molly held him in place.

“What did I say, Caleb?”

“I can't,” whined Caleb. “It's too much. I'm sorry. I can't do it.”

Molly hummed. He massaged Caleb's thighs, reaching up to his hips and back down to his knees.

“I'm sorry.” Caleb said again.

Molly squeezed his thighs.

“Love,” began Molly. “I'd rather you tell if you think you can't do something. We can always try another time, okay?”

“Okay,” breathed Caleb. Molly smiled at him.

“Would you like to come now, Caleb?” Molly asked, his voice once more mantled in that powerful, predatory snarl.

“Yes, please,” came Caleb's quick reply.

Molly chuckled. His hand came back up around the base of Caleb's dick and worked him back up. It took only a few strokes before Caleb was gasping and panting.

“Molly, please!” Caleb moaned.

Molly took Caleb back into his mouth. Caleb’s hips twitched. Both of Molly's hands came up behind Caleb and squeezed his ass in encouragement. Caleb was barreling toward his release. Every nerve in his body was ablaze. His blood was sizzling. Caleb's fingers found their way to Molly's horns and wrapped tightly around them; but he did not pull, did not think he was allowed to. He tried to warn Molly, he really did, but his orgasm came crashing into him in a wave. Caleb choked on a moan as he came down Molly's throat. Molly groaned, stroked Caleb through his orgasm, his lips still sealed around the head of Caleb's cock, until Caleb was shivering and whining from how sensitive he was.

Molly popped off Caleb's softened cock, wiped a hand across his face to catch whatever he did not manage to swallow, and grinned up at Caleb.

“You did so well, love.” Molly's voice was rough. “I'm impressed.”

He tucked Caleb away and then rose slowly to his feet. His shirt had slipped down over his shoulder, lips flushed and swollen and shiny with spit and cum. Caleb groaned at the vision Molly created.

“Molly,” he breathed.

“I'm here, Caleb.” He pulled Caleb into a hug, stroked his hair. “You can touch, love. The game is over.”

Caleb wrapped his arms tightly around Molly, tugged him flush against his own body.

“Can I kiss you?” Caleb asked breathlessly. He desperately wanted to taste Molly's mouth.

“Absolutely, love.”

Caleb crushed his mouth against Molly's. He could taste himself mixed in with Molly's natural taste and that strange, burnt cinnamon taste that Caleb imagined was a result of Molly's infernal heritage.

“Mollymauk,” breathed Caleb. He reached for the laces of Molly's pants, but the tiefling stopped him. Caleb frowned, not understanding. Had he done something wrong? 

“You've already given me quite a lot,” explained Molly with a reassuring smile. “I don't want you to give me anything more today. I am more than pleased.”

He pulled Caleb's head down to his shoulder, wrapped him up completely in his arms; wove his tail around Caleb's calf. Caleb buried his face in the crook of Molly's neck, just clung to Molly as he slowly came down, came back to himself. He always lost time during sex, almost like his brain forgot to count. Caleb had no idea how long they were against the wall, how long it was before Molly wrung his orgasm out of him. It felt both too long and too brief. But from when Caleb could finally keep track once more, it was twenty minutes exactly. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“How are you feeling?” Molly asked.

Caleb nodded. “Gut.”

Molly chuckled. “I'm assuming that means good. Ready to go back?”

“No,” sighed Caleb, but he pulled back. “But they might get suspicious.”

“Caleb.” Molly almost sounded like he was scolding him. “If you need more time, we can stay here for as long as you like.”

“Molly, we're no where private. I would rather go back.”

Mollymauk nodded and reluctantly slipped away from Caleb. Caleb missed Mollymauk's warmth immediately, but he did not reach for Mollymauk's hand no matter how much he wanted to.

“Actually, Caleb,” said Molly with a guarded voice. “Uh, there is something important I want to talk to you about. If you want to, of course. It can always wait until later.”

“What is it?” Caleb asked, apprehensive. 

“Don't worry,” Molly assured him. “It's nothing to do with this. It's something else.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I would have told you last night, but Jester asked me not to talk about it until today because she wanted to make sure we all got some rest and she's right, we still need rest. You know my back still hurts a bit…”

“Molly.” Caleb interrupted. “You are babbling.”

“Sorry.” He paused. “So yesterday...when we were talking about what was going on in my head…”

“Barely,” said Caleb. “You were pretty evasive and when I came into the room to check on you, you were - that is, there was clearly something wrong and I didn't know what it was.”

Molly took Caleb's hands in his. “No bullshit. I really didn't know what it was either. At least not at first. I thought it might have been, I don't know, Lucien coming back to haunt me. There were times really,  _ really _ early in my life - the first few months - where it felt like...how do I explain this?” He shifted again, this time leaning against the wall. “I don't know how to explain this at all.” Caleb let him think, patiently waited for Molly to continue. He dragged his thumbs across the back of Molly's knuckles. “It felt like...I was not supposed to be there. Like I was someone else, but still me? Does that make sense?”

Caleb nodded. “Ja, that makes sense.”

“Okay, good. Well, it's a terrible feeling, let me tell you!” He laughed humorlessly. “And the nightmares? Oof. I've had nightmares before, almost every night…”

“That does not surprise me. You woke up in your own grave - twice now.”

“Yeah, I did.” He paused again, this time for a stretch of minutes, his eyes focused on something far away from them. “Well, the nightmares this time were pretty terrible. Usually I'm just drowning in dirt or I can't breathe or I'm being crushed or there's someone else there, but...this one was different. There was blood and bones and snakes and people's hands and a throne…

“Well, Jester told me she had the same nightmare.”

“Really?” Caleb asked. The wheels in his head were already spinning. “What else? There is more you are not telling me.”

“I'm getting to that.” Molly assured him. “Can you just promise me you won't freak out? Okay...when I was in the woods, when we all were in the woods, I heard a voice in my head.”

Caleb's brain skidded to a halt.

“I really only remember bits of it, but I think it started sometime around us finding Yasha. I felt strange before then, but I figured it was just from, you know, getting shot in the back. But this voice...it just kept getting stronger and more insistent. It was pretty clear when we were raiding the camp...I just thought it was maybe that other person who was here before me. I even thought it might have been my own brain, that that's how wounded I was.

“But then Jester told me she heard a voice as well. Now I don't know what it is and...we're both scared. But! At least it's not that arsehole who was in this body before me, right?”

“Ja, I was worried it might be something like that.” Caleb said. “But it...I'll need to think about this…”

“Do you think it could be…”

“Akerion? It's a possibility. Most fiends, devils included, have some form of telepathy. It is usually limited by distance, but there are exceptions, such as with a succubus or an incubus. That often requires some sort of enchantment upon the fiend's victim, however. So if it is this devil, then either it was following you around all night or it somehow cast some kind of spell on you.”

“Great.”

“Or it could be something else entirely. This seems most likely, however. Unfortunately, I do not have much prepared in the way of defense against something like this. That's the thing about magic. You have unlimited power, but only if you can think of it. People think you can just be casting spells willy-nilly, but that is not really the case…”

“Caleb, normally I really like it when you're talking smart, but I'm starting to freak out.”

Caleb sighed. “Fine. We can discuss more after we have spoken with everyone.”

They both reluctantly returned to the tavern. Caleb's only desire was to sit against the side of the tavern all day, just talking with Mollymauk. Why else had he gone through such an ordeal to bring this man back to him? Caleb was selfish, afterall.


	9. Chapter Nein

Caleb had another forty-five minutes alone with Mollymauk. Mollymauk wanted to talk, kept trying to fill the silence with words, but Caleb really could not find it in him to respond. His mind was turning over Mollymauk's words, searched for clues, picked them apart. Everything worried him. What sort of threat were they facing? What creature could have that sort of influence on his tiefling companions? It certainly explained some of Mollymauk's behavior in the woods, how agitated Jester was. Caleb was certain it was responsible for what Mollymauk did to that woman with the nasal helm. His mind replayed the images for him; replayed the moment he stumbled across Mollymauk in the woods; how his heart stopped when he saw the blood and gore and the horrific ruin of the woman's throat.

Caleb was beginning to wonder if this was worth it. So much harm was being done to them, to Mollymauk. And Caleb was intimately familiar with the sort of damage Mollymauk could do to himself or to anyone around him under the potential influence of something like a devil. Caleb already knew what needed to be done, but he wanted more information first. It was important to know what they had been dealing with. To know what exactly this Akerion, this devil, was and what exactly were the extents of its power.

Eventually Mollymauk gave up and occupied himself with Harald, Matilde's son, a boy of about thirteen. He did a reading for the boy at an adjoining table, Matilde shooting him disapproving looks every now and again.

Yasha was the first of their companions to wake. She gave Caleb a long, suspicious look before going to Mollymauk. Harald did not move away from the table, only slid his chair to accommodate Yasha's bulk. The boy was still entranced with Mollymauk and the manufactured air of mystery. It reminded Caleb of Jester the first time they all met.

It was not long before the remainder of Caleb's companions appeared in the common room. Jester joined Mollymauk and Yasha at the table with Harald, only enhancing the boy’s excitement with her own. Fjord and Beauregard gathered their few belongings and passed out the packs and supplies bundled in blankets purchased from Matilde. Nott came last, still drunk from the night before perhaps, and clambered up into the seat beside Caleb.

Once they had all eaten breakfast, Fjord gathered everyone in a circle around Caleb's table. Molly dropped a hand down to the back of Caleb's chair, his knuckles brushing surreptitiously along Caleb's shoulder. He was standing behind Caleb, fully dressed in his resplendent coat, sword at his hip, and was even wearing one of Jester's charms on a horn. It was nice seeing him like that. He looked normal.

“You got a plan, green man?” Beauregard asked with a mouth full of bacon. She was already loading her pockets full and Nott was ordering more from Matilde.

“Green man?” Fjord asked incredulously.

Beauregard snorted a laugh. Fjord sighed.

“Whatever.” He muttered. “I don't really have a plan, but I think we should discuss. Set some rules, right?”

“You do have a plan then.”

Fjord gave Beauregard a long-suffering look. Mollymauk did not bother to stifle his chuckle.

“As I was saying,” continued Fjord, “I'm thinkin’ we need to set some ground rules. Just to be safe. All that shit yesterday's got me all shook up and I think we need to be careful. I'm thinkin’ we split up into groups, spend a few hours out there, take it slow, don't do anything stupid or reckless, then meet back up here before evenin’.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Beauregard said.

“That's a good plan, boss.” Mollymauk echoed.

Fjord rolled his eyes. They split themselves into three groups. Caleb was grouped up with Fjord and Beauregard. Mollymauk and Yasha were together. And that left Nott and Jester. While Caleb had no real objections to the group compositions, part of him had irrationally hoped he would be grouped with Molly. He could not say anything, though, did not want anyone else to know or even suspect something was developing between himself and the tiefling. Besides, this was probably the best way to divide the group. They all worked best like this. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jester shouted as they were collecting their belongings. “We need team names!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Nott was excitedly bouncing up and down. “Obviously we're The Detectives.” She pointed at Mollymauk and Yasha. “Circus People!”

Mollymauk shrugged. “Accurate.”

“Trauma Team!” Nott declared as she pointed at Caleb, Fjord, and Beauregard.

Fjord and Beauregard failed to choke back a laugh. Caleb could only groan. Jester was cackling.

They each agreed to bring their belongings with them in case they needed to flee, and they all agreed on a meeting place south of the village if everything went to shit. None of them would take any unnecessary risks. None of them would go anywhere alone. No shenanigans. Just go out, get this done, and come back to the tavern.

Once they had finally stepped outside, they were greeted once more with rain. Mollymauk pulled Caleb aside and adjusted the wizard's scarf.

“Don't want you catching cold.” He said, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I can see the marks.”

Caleb's face flushed red. Mollymauk gave him an apologetic look. Caleb hoped no one noticed. It was not unusual for Molly to fuss over any member of the group.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jester called to everyone and gestured wildly for them to gather around her. “There is one more teeny tiny little thing that Molly and I have to tell you before we go and you can't be weird about it, okay?” She took a breath.

“What is it, Jes?” Fjord asked.

“Weeellll...there's a creepy voice in the woods. It's no big deal, just scary. Molly heard it, too, but it stopped so it's all okay.”

“What the fuck?” Beauregard demanded angrily. “Why the fuck didn't you guys say anything sooner?”

“We didn't want to freak you out.” Jester explained. Her brow was knotted with worry. Molly had moved to stand beside her. “Last night everyone was tired and if we told you, then how would anyone sleep?”

“Yeah?” Fjord snapped. “You think that maybe that mighta been important information to tell us? I can't believe the both of you! How long has that been goin’ on for?”

“It stopped!” Jester replied defensively.

“Oh, it stopped,” Beauregard shouted. “It's all good now, the demon in the woods stopped talking to me!”

“It is a devil.” Caleb corrected. 

“What-the-fuck-ever!” She jabbed a finger angrily at Molly and Jester. “You're both fucking morons!”

Mollymauk stepped in. “Hey, Jes and I were scared! Neither of us knew what was going on and we both just wanted to sleep. What would've happened last night if we brought it up?”

“Fine!  _ I'm sorry! _ ” Beauregard’s apology was heavily laced with sarcasm. “Let's just get this shit done and get the fuck out of here.”

She marched off, Fjord close behind. Caleb made brief eye contact with Molly, shared a small smile with the tiefling, then trailed after Beauregard and Fjord.

“Everyone be careful!” Mollymauk called.

 

“I can't believe they didn't tell us!” Beauregard snarled. She smacked at the overgrown weeds along the roadside with her quarterstaff. “Assholes!”

Fjord sighed through his nose. He was angry as well, Caleb could tell, but instead of loosing an outburst like Beauregard, was silently fuming. Caleb tried his best to ignore the both of them while he tried to piece all this new information together. Molly and Jester heard a voice. Caleb did not think it was a coincidence that it was only the tieflings who heard anything. Was it Akerion? It seemed likely. Plenty of devils had telepathy, but why was it trying to communicate with the tieflings? And then there was the warlock, a third tiefling. There was absolutely a connection there. Caleb would need more information if he wanted to determine exactly what. It could, of course, be something as simple as they had fiendish blood and the devil is a fiend. Perhaps they were just more sensitive to Akerion's influence...if it was Akerion that was influencing them. If only he had access to a library at the moment, he could try to find this thing's name in a fiend folio. Just like he had stumbled across Ipkesh.

“Caleb!” Beauregard was shouting at him. “Hello? Are you still on this plane of existence, man?”

“I am thinking,” he said with marked irritation, “What do you want?”

Beauregard pointed at the farmhouse they were fast approaching.

“We're almost there, man. We need you to pay attention to what's going on here instead of in that crazy brain.”

 

Molly knocked on the door with a musical beat and stepped back. He could only hope the rain was keeping the farmers indoors so he wouldn't have to go traipsing through the fields. Yasha stood a good distance behind him, but close enough that she could step in if things went tits up. He always felt safe when she was around.

It took a moment for the door to crack open. A wizened old woman was glaring at him through the crack. 

“Good morning!” Molly greeted brightly. “Do you have a moment?”

The woman snarled at him and slammed the door.

“She's friendly.”

“No one likes you.” Yasha remarked.

“Thank you for lifting me up, Yash.” Molly returned his attention to the farmhouse. He raised his voice to be heard above the rain and past the rickety door. “Madam, please. If you could spare a few moments, I would like to talk to you about the bandits in the woods.”

There was a pause.

“What for, devil?”

Molly could sense Yasha bristling behind him.

“Well,” he began, “We hope to get rid of them. I was only hoping you could share some information with me.”

The woman cracked the door open once more, gave him a long, searching look.

“You look like a damn fool.”

“Oh, I'm certainly a fool,” said Molly with a wide grin.

The woman snorted.

“What'll you give me?”

“Well,” he reached into his coat and pulled out the half-full bottle of wine from the previous night. “I have half a bottle of wine.”

“That'll do!” The woman snatched it from him. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you're willing to tell me. Specifically we're looking for a man, human, mid-thirties?” He looked back to Yasha for confirmation. She nodded. “Goatee, pierced eyebrow. You see, he disappeared and we've been sent to retrieve him.”

“Ahhhh,” the old woman growled. Her voice was worn, gritty with age. “I seen that one. No good, no good. Used to come round here with Birna's Band and take payments from the rich ones - Alvor the ferrier, Matilde the innkeep, and from Ealdorman Jaskun. Haven't seen him in a while. Few months maybe.”

Molly hummed in thought.

“Interesting,” he murmured as he reached once more into his coat. “Tell me about Birna's Band. How long have they been in the area?”

“Oh, years,” answered the woman as she took the offering of a wooden holy symbol of the Matron of Ravens. “This is finely carved.”

“I've been holding onto it for most of my life. My father gave it to me.”

“He a devil, too?”

“No,” replied Molly, letting the manufactured mirth color his voice. “But my mother certainly was.”

“Ha!” The woman took a swig of wine straight from the bottle. “Birna's Band came round here maybe six years hence...yeah, it was six. That's when Pearson's boy died of the pox and Ealdorman Jaskun had us burn all our beddings  _ and  _ the boy. That was a bad year. These wolves came round not too long after that, when others died of the pox, and they ate the bodies. Got a taste for human flesh they did. Killed old Greta out in the North Fields…ya know some say the bodies was full of snakes, but probably just all squirmy with maggots. Snakes don’t go into dead bodies, they eat rats. Woods is haunted, but not like that. Just ghosts of lost hunters, ya know...always full of ravens. Ain’t no snakes round here anyway.”

“That all sounds terrible.” Molly interrupted. He glanced back at Yasha. A plague? Snakes in corpses? Bloodthirsty wolves? A bit too on brand to be anything but a devil. “I'll wager Birna's Band only made it worse.”

The old woman nodded. “Birna swept in, busted a few noses. Didn't kill no one. Just told us we were giving them protection money now. Now we gotta pay tithes  _ and _ these damn bandits. Not too much coin going around after the death…’cept from Alvor and Matilde and Jaskun. Always got coin, those ones. None of them died of the pox or got eat by wolves.”

“The tiefling,” prompted Molly, reaching into his coat yet again. “Not me, the red one. Do you know anything about him?”

He handed her a small, silver charm shaped like a kingfisher. It would probably become the most valuable thing in this old woman's possession. She happily took it from him, spent a moment examining it, before tucking it away.

“Aye,” she said grimly. “I know that one. First saw him a few months ago, the last time Birna came round to gather coin. He was at her back, saying things to her, whispering in her ear. So much like a devil. Decay I think is what they called him. They took Ivar's little girl that day. Some of the men and women put up a fight, but...it just turned into a bloodbath. That devil just laughed at us, took the little girl, and then gone off back into the woods.”

Molly felt anger sizzling beneath his skin. These people were suffering; just innocent farmers victimized by a group of absolute bastards.

“Where?” Molly asked.

The woman's eyes snapped up to him, but she didn't answer. Molly sighed and reached into his coat once more. He handed her the deck of playing cards that he didn't recognize. He figured it probably belonged to that asshole archer who shot him and took his coat.

“Cards?” The woman huffed.

“They belonged to a man I killed.”

The woman hummed in appreciation.

“Don’t know,” she continued. “But I heared rumors. Whispers. Some say there's a pit out in the woods. Smells like rotten eggs and there be wolves and snakes round it, but there be no snakes round here. Too far north. Don't figure how anyone believes it’s out there. Hunters woulda found it long time ago. Sounds like bullshit if you ask me. These idiots what live here will believe anything. Some others are saying there's a shrine or a temple out there. But how come we never knew about it? What do it matter, though? Them what was taken is all probably dead anyway.”

Molly chewed his lip. He figured the stone circle, that thing that was a memory beyond a dense fog and a gulf of just nothing, was most likely the “shrine.” Perhaps the pit was real as well.

The woman hummed in thought. “You been so polite...for a devil. Suppose I could tell you something more. Ivar says he saw the pit. It's where that rumor come from. He went looking for his little girl and found it and then come running back to tell everyone. But he’s gone loony. Keeps going back out to the woods, hoping to find his girl. Drunk all the time. Nightmares. If there was a pit, the hunters woulda found it long hence.”

“Where's Ivar?”

“Ah, he won't want to talk to you.” The old woman was backing away into her house. “You're a devil.”

She slammed the door shut.

“Fuck,” hissed Molly. He whirled around and stomped off down the road to the next farmhouse. Yasha trailed after him.

“They need help.” She said.

“Lucky we’re here, then.”

Molly had to help these people.  _ They _ needed to help these people. He didn't care about the original objective anymore, never did to begin with. He didn’t care about his jewelry. He didn’t care about that stupid orb. This cult needed to be stopped.

“Hey,” called Yasha. “Molls? I want to ask you something.”

“You can ask me anything, dear.”

“So, Caleb...you and him were gone for a long time last night.”

Molly's eyes darted to Yasha. “You were awake.”

“Of course.”

Molly sighed. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

“You had sex with him.” Yasha said flatly. 

Molly laughed. “Just don't tell anyone. I think he would die of embarrassment.”

“I know that much.”

Molly sighed once more, gazing up at the rain.

“I wish,” he said, “We weren't out here in this village...maybe at the Pillow Trove instead? I could've, I mean, I wanted to spend more time with him.”

“Having sex?”

“No!” Molly laughed. “I mean, yes, but…” His words died on his sigh. “I just...it would be nice for it to have just been the two of us, I suppose. I mean, I know. I know it would've been nice. I don't even know what I'm trying to say.”

“Tell me once you've figured it out.” Yasha was giving him a knowing smile.

Molly just huffed a quiet laugh. He threaded his arm through Yasha's. There was no one he could trust more than her.

 

The rain was getting worse. Molly kept the overly large hood of his coat up. He knew it made him look ridiculous, a lumpy shape over his typically elegant ram horns, but he wanted to keep the rain off his head more than he wanted to keep his aesthetic. The last two houses had not answered Molly's summons. This was normal. Molly knew he and Yasha were probably a terrifying sight to behold to these simple folk. He wished they knew he was only trying to help.

This was the last house they would have time to visit before Molly and Yasha needed to head back to the tavern. Once more, Molly knocked on the door and then politely stepped back. He didn't want to overwhelm, not this time. Not a moment later, a voice called out in Zemnian. 

_ Oh, shit. _ Molly barely understood Zemnian. He mostly knew how to cuss or order a drink, just a handful of phrases he picked up from hanging around his favorite wizard. This would be interesting. 

“Uhh, hello?” Molly called. “I just want to take a moment of your time.”

He could hear shuffling, the creak of floorboards, then the metallic clink of locks being undone. Yasha moved closer to Molly, standing just behind him as the door wheezed open. A worn, tired man with a bristly mustache and unkempt hair poked his head from between the crack in the door. His eyes widened when he saw Molly, then twisted into a mask of rage. The man flung the door open.

Molly stepped back, bumping into Yasha, his hands up in an attempt to placate.

“Hey there, c'mon.” Molly laughed. He put on his disarming smile. “I'm your friend!”

The man grabbed something from beside the door - a fishing rod - and stepped out. Yasha put her hand on Molly's shoulder, ready to shove him aside.

“Sir, I'm not the one that will hurt you!”

The man swung the fishing rod at him, the flexible wood whistling through the air like a whip and cutting through the driving rain. Yasha shoved Molly aside, stepped forward. The fishing rod snapped against her shoulder. She grabbed the man by his collar and threw him against the door. He went tumbling back inside the house - no where near as strong as Yasha.

“Don't hit my friend!” Yasha snarled.

She stepped in, putting herself in the doorway between Molly and the man. There was a woman shouting in Zemnian.

“Hey!” Molly shouted. “Hey! Hey! Calm down! Everyone relax.”

“I am relaxed.” Yasha growled. Her hands were fists.

Molly slipped up behind Yasha so that he could see into the farmhouse. The man was quickly climbing to his feet, a woman standing behind him with a kitchen knife in her hand.

“What do you want?” The woman shouted. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Molly said. He plastered an apologetic smile across his face. He had to duck beneath Yasha's arm to talk to them. “We just want to talk. We're here to help.”

“You don't look like you're here to help. You look like heavies for that bastard tiefling. Get away from us! We've already given you everything and we've got nothing for it!”

“Madam,  _ please _ . If we really were here to do harm, we would have. Yasha has arms and I  _ am _ armed.”

Her eyes darted between him and Yasha. The man was on his feet now and gripping a chair in his hands. Molly widened his smile, hoping to disarm.

“My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf.” He reached his hand toward them from beneath Yasha's arm in an offer to shake. “Molly to my friends and I'm here to help. But you have to talk to me.”

The woman sighed. She said something to the man in Zemnian. His head snapped to her, said something harsh and angry back to her, but she just gave him a glare. The man slammed the chair down and dropped into the seat with his arms folded.

“Fine.” The woman sighed. “We'll talk.”

 

The sun was beginning to set when Caleb returned to the tavern. He was trailing behind Beauregard and Fjord, his mind churning through all the information they gathered today. It was probably some of the most fucked up things he ever heard. There was absolutely no question in his mind now that they were dealing with a powerful devil. He barely even registered the moment they all stepped into the warm and crowded tavern.

Nott and Jester were having a heated discussion at the large table near the hearth, getting angry glares from the locals. Their voices carried over the general din of the crowd and effectively pulled Caleb out of his mind.

“I know, I know!” Nott was excitedly saying as she bounced up and down in her seat. “It makes perfect sense!”

“Oh! Fjord!” Jester shouted. “Beau! Caleb! Nott and I found out what happened to that guy we were supposed to find!”

“Why am I skeptical?” Fjord asked. He took a seat beside Jester.

“Where,” asked Caleb, “Are Molly and Yasha?”

“Hold on,” interrupted Jester. “This is important! Nott and I figured it all out.”

Nott nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes! We did! Show them, Jester!”

Jester whipped out her sketchbook, held it open for everyone to see. There was a cartoonish depiction of a dead body.

“He's dead!” Jester declared cheerfully.

Fjord sighed in exasperation.

“Oh my god,” said Beauregard. “I feel like that's pretty obvious at this point.”

“Did you find anythin’ else?” Fjord asked. He leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah, anything about the demon?”

“Devil,” corrected Caleb.

“Fine,” sighed Beauregard, rolling her eyes. “The  _ devil _ . Did you find anything about it?”

“No,” replied Nott dejectedly. “It was too hard getting people to talk to us. All we really got was  _ ‘stay out of the woods!’  _ And  _ ‘don't eat my chickens!’ _ ”

“Yeah...sorry, dudes.” Jester apologized.

“S'alright.” Fjord sighed. “We...might have gotten enough information for all of us. Once Yasha and Molly come back, we'll explain.”

They did not have to wait long, just under ten minutes. It was, however, plenty of time for Caleb to worry. When Molly appeared, Yasha beside him, he was walking with his arms folded, staring down at his boots, chewing his bottom lip. He seemed disturbed, angry. As Molly approached them, he put on that smile-mask. He was so bad at it. Molly’s emotions were always writ clear across his face, even when he was trying his best to disguise them.

Mollymauk slid into the chair between Caleb and Beauregard. His tail surreptitiously slid beneath Caleb's chair, the spade tip curling up against Caleb's calf. 

“Have we met with success?” Molly asked brightly.

“Bunch of bullshit is what we met with.” Beauregard answered. “Dude's fucking gone. Probably dead. This is a snipe hunt.”

“Only the snipe's a diabolic cult.” Caleb mused.

“And it's preying on these people.” Molly added as he gestured vaguely around him at the tavern. He had that determined expression they were all familiar with. He already knew what he was going to do and he was going to convince everyone to follow.

Fjord nodded. “We found that, as well. That tiefling...he came up here not too long ago.”

“Few months.” Mollymauk said, folding his arms once more.

“Yeah, few months,” said Fjord, again with a nod. “Someone gave him their daughter…”

“ _ Gave him? _ ” Mollymauk hissed. “Her mother told me he  _ took _ her. The little girl's name is Rishie, by the way.”

“Really?” Fjord asked slowly. “Interesting...from what we gathered, these people in this village aren't so innocent. They made a deal with the cult.”

“They're  _ farmers _ .”

“Yes,” said Caleb, “They're farmers. They are not warriors. But this is a decision they made, to deal with this cult. They gave up a little girl one month, a husband and wife the next, and the ealdorman three days ago. They are absolutely not innocent.”

Mollymauk was bristling. Caleb could imagine the tiefling's hackles rising. His tail had disappeared from Caleb's leg.

“This is a fuckin’ snake pit.” Fjord said. “And we've been pokin’ it all yesterday and today. Won't be too long before they come after us next, and that red piece of shit has got to be lookin’ for us. If he comes slitherin’ out over here, which he will, these not-so-innocent farmers are gonna turn us over.”

“We are  _ not _ leaving.” Mollymauk announced.

“Molly,” said Caleb carefully. “This is the smart play. We're done taking risks with this. You...we almost lost you again.”

Mollymauk's eyes darted between them, quickly examining their faces. The movement of those solid, red eyes could only be identified by the flicker of his eyelids, something Caleb trained himself to track. He could see the gears turning in Mollymauk's head, his expression changing from anger to disgust.

“Really?” Mollymauk's voice came out as a growl. His tail was whipping back and forth like a lash. “Is that what this is about? I'm not - I'm just some arsehole! I'm not more important than an entire village full of people.”

“Molly,” began Caleb. “You  _ are _ more important.”

Caleb could not identify the emotion that twitched across Mollymauk's face. (Hurt? Shame? Anger?) Whatever it was, it was quickly replaced with sadness. His head was turned in Caleb's direction, but it was just too difficult to determine if Mollymauk was actually looking at him. Mollymauk shook his head.

“I-I'm not!” Mollymauk desperately protested.

“You are,” insisted Caleb. “We do not know these people.”

“No!” Mollymauk snapped. He jumped up from his chair, knocking it back and sending it skittering across the packed dirt floor. Several heads snapped in their direction. Caleb did not like the attention they were drawing. “Have you all gotten so selfish? We can't just leave this place like this when we can fix it!”

“ _ Can _ we fix it?” Fjord asked dubiously. “He's got this whole place at his mercy. There's gotta be at least a hundred people livin’ in this village and they all rolled over for that son of a bitch.”

“We can at least try.” Mollymauk was leaning on the table.

“I don't know if it makes sense to be stickin’ our necks out for people who are givin’ up their kids and neighbors to a cult!”

Mollymauk threw his hands up in frustration. Caleb's eyes kept darting to Beauregard. He expected her to argue, that she would pipe up at any moment with a retort, but she kept silent. She was watching Mollymauk, her brow furrowed.

The door to the tavern banged open and in rushed a disheveled old man. They all turned, hands flying to weapons, leapt from their seats. Caleb’s hand darted beneath his coat to his component pouch. Fjord did not even hesitate to conjure his falchion. Yasha grabbed the edge of the table, muscles tense and ready to throw.

“Matilde!” The man shouted as he forced his way through the crowd. “They’re here!” The farmers gasped and muttered in a combination of fear and what Caleb was certain was excitement. “Alvor saw the devil coming up the road and I run here fast as I could. They're coming to the square!”

Caleb was already rising from his seat.

“Harald!” Matilde shouted to her son. “Get these people out, through the back way!”

Harald nodded. “Okay! Come on, I know the secret way!”

They grabbed their few belongings and rushed after Harald out through the kitchen and banged through the backdoor into the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented and left kudos and bookmarks!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gore really amps up in this chapter, so be warned. I'm not entirely sure how to tag it, but it might be rough for some. I'll have a summary of the chapter in the notes at the end.
> 
> Special thanks to CodeSculptor for inviting me to the Widomauk Discord!

Harald led Molly out of the tavern with both of his small hands wrapped around Molly’s, tugging insistently. The rest of the Nein were gathered around Molly in a tight formation, Caleb close behind him with a hand on his back. Beau and Jester flanked Harald in the front, Fjord and Yasha bringing up the rear, as Nott darted between everyone’s legs. Molly could hear chaos exploding in the tavern, the farmers as they spilled out into the square, the shouts and the curses.

“He always comes with the fliers!” Harald whispered. “There’s a cart we can all hide under.”

Harald dove beneath an old, rotten cart that was crouched over an overgrown hedge. Molly was right behind the boy, forced almost on top of him by Yasha’s bulk and shoved up against the bed of the cart as Nott crawled in beneath him.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” She hissed as she yanked back the string of her crossbow.

Caleb shushed her, crawling into the space on Molly’s other side.

“Everyone just keep cool.” Fjord whispered from opposite Yasha. He was turned almost sideways, crammed between Yasha and Jester. “We’re out of here the second we got an opening.”

Molly scowled at him. 

“Hold on,” hissed Beau. Her staff bumped against Caleb’s head. “Shit, sorry Caleb. I want to see what this shit-head does.”

“Folks!” Shouted a magically amplified, raspy, masculine voice. “We have been wronged! I regret to inform you of Birna's passing. You see, my friends, she was  _ murdered _ by a group of vagabonds, thieves, who have invaded our woodland!”

Beyond the underbrush, past the few buildings, Molly could see fairly well into the town square. There stood the blood-red tiefling, Decay, hands on his hips, an air of absolute authority radiating off him. His horns twisted around his head before curling forward on either side of his face like a pair of tusks, like a boar’s and good for rooting around in the dirt. His long, black hair hung lank and greasy from between his horns. He was surrounded in a protective ring by close to a dozen armed individuals, flanked by a pair of devils with long beards that ended in hooks and spines. A slowly growing group of farmers was gathering in the square. Molly could feel his hackles rise.

“Now, my friends,” continued Decay. “I have offered you protection. And have I not kept you safe? Have I not kept the wolves away, and the slavers, and the Reapers? You are safe here now in this vale and it is because of our cooperation.”

The more this tiefling talked, the less Molly liked him. Caleb had gone completely stiff and still beside him. His eyes were looking somewhere far away. Molly reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I must apologize, for I am flawed. One of us has died.” Decay paused for effect. “Someone under my watch, someone I was sworn and promised to guide, has been murdered. One of your protectors has fallen and too many of your sons and daughters, those brave volunteers, have been murdered. Just as I have warned, we have been invaded and attacked. I have seen the murderers. They are cowards, weak things that are clever like rats, and fled here to our village.” Another pause. “I fear one of us is a traitor. One of us is hiding the invaders.”

“Matilde!” Someone shouted. “Matilde has them! I saw them in the tavern last night!”

“Son of a bitch!” Beau spat.

Jester gasped. Molly could see Decay through the crowd as he marched toward the tavern.

“Matilde! Come out here, dear, and have a chat with me.”

A moment passed before Matilde stepped out from the tavern. Harald whimpered fearfully and Yasha shushed him.

“Where are they, Matilde?” Decay asked. “I know you've given them rooms in the tavern. Where are they hiding?”

“I don't know.” Molly could barely hear her.

“Don't lie to me.” Decay stepped through the ring of cultists. He towered over Matilde, his twisting crown of horns only serving to add to his intimidating height. “Your boy isn't here, he's led them somewhere. I will find them either way, Matilde. It's best if you help me.”

Decay was calm, but his unspoken threat was unmistakable. Submit or die. Molly wanted to rush in even though he knew that a fight here would be certain death. He twisted his shaking hand over the grip of his trusty scimitar.

“We should move while they're distracted,” whispered Beau. She was leaning across Caleb's back so Molly could hear her. “We can’t help her.”

Fjord nodded. Caleb was pulling components from his pouch. Nott was pulling her legs up beneath her, ready to spring.

“So we're running.” Molly hissed.

“What are we supposed to do?” Fjord hissed back. His angry gesture was shortened comically in the enclosed space. “Look at that shit! We're not takin’ any more stupid risks! Not for people we don't know.”

Harald was looking at them with wide, fearful eyes. Decay's amplified voice carried above the susurrous hiss of the rain.

“Come now, Matilde, think of Harald. What do you think those strangers will do to him?”

“They are good people.” Matilde insisted. “Much better than you and your ugly friends at least.”

A murmur rolled through the crowd.

“What the hell is she doing?” Molly hissed.

Decay's head turned as he looked around at the crowd.

“You have always been insolent.” He snarled. “You brought this upon yourself.”

Decay grabbed Matilde by her collar, yanked her toward him, and then inhaled. His jaw distended, eyes rolling back as he gagged. Matilde slapped at his hands, kicked his legs, but she could not break free. She screamed. Steam began to rise from Matilde's face and from around Decay's mouth as a horrid, sulphuric stench roiled out. Matilde's flesh blistered and bubbled, the skin cracking and the blood boiling away and evaporating before it could run. She screamed brokenly as her face split and turned black. Her graying hair burned away. She choked and gasped, clutching desperately to Decay’s forearms. Then there was silence. 

Harald screamed. Yasha wrapped him up in her big arms in an attempt to silence him, but it was too late.

“There!” Decay coughed, his voice tight with pain.

“Fuck!” Beauregard shouted.

Yasha flipped the cart up on its side as she leapt to her feet, Harald tucked under her arm. Jester grabbed the boy from her as they bolted for the wide expanse of farmland. Beauregard cut ahead of the group, Nott perched on her shoulders. The goblin was screaming, her crossbow trained on the armed cultists that were in hot pursuit. Yasha brought the cart with her, carrying it like a pavise across her back; she was their shield. Harald was wailing.

Screeches pierced the air. Molly flinched involuntarily. He recognized that sound, though he couldn't remember ever having heard it before. His head snapped up instinctively. A flock of flapping and spined fiends launched up from the roofs and eaves of buildings.

“Fuck!” Beauregard shouted.

Nott was screeching as she fired her crossbow at the fiends. Arrows thunked against the bed of the cart. Caleb skidded to a stop, a bit of red powder between his fingers.

“Caleb!” Molly shouted. 

No one else hesitated, the rest of them continued to rush past, deeper into the expanse of farmland.

“Stay behind me, Mollymauk!” Caleb shouted.

He crushed the red powder against his hand, arm shooting out like an arrow and drawing a line in front of him. A roaring wall of fire erupted with blinding fury between them and the cultists. The cultists screamed in fear, the devils wheeled higher above them.

“Holy shit, Caleb!” Molly laughed.

He grabbed Caleb by the sleeve of his ratty coat and dragged him after their friends.

“You're fucking amazing!”

“Ja, it is a useful spell.” Caleb replied simply. Molly laughed once more.

“I could kiss you!”

Molly sliced one of the spined devils clean in two once it was within reach. He hissed at the sharp spike of pain that ripped through his shoulder. Yasha and Beau slowed enough for them to catch up. Yasha was using the cart like a bludgeon, tugging down on the shafts for leverage, to smack away any of the devils that got too close. Harald was screaming.

“You can't run forever!” Decay's cracked voice was echoing above the field, above the rain and the roar of the wall of fire.

The silvery outline of a door appeared in the middle of them and out stepped Decay and a tall, pale and scarred humanoid covered in chains that slithered over its muscular body. Decay was even more intimidating up close. He had to be close to Yasha's height; lips were split and bleeding; face and arms covered in scars both old and new; eyes two beady, little pinpoints of molten hellfire; worn, leather armor covered in studs and spikes and chains and rusty hooks; the rain skated off his horns, reflecting the golden light of the wall of fire. His lips curled back in a snarl to reveal a set of broken and crooked fangs.

And then he was gone, back through another doorway.

The devil - it was obviously a devil - covered in chains dropped the chains off its body, the lengths extending out from it like rusty tentacles.

“We gotta go!” Fjord shouted. He and Beau and Jester and Nott had slowed to a near stop at the interruption. It wouldn’t be long before the other devils and the cultists caught up.

The devil spun, flung its hooked chains out in every direction around it. Molly threw himself to the ground, the chains shooting out over his head. Fjord and Jester shouted in pain as the hooks bit into them. Fjord was flung with the chains, dashed into the soil and through the crops. The chain looped around him with dizzying speed. Another chain was wrapped tightly around Jester's muscled arm and she was pulling back on it even as it bit into her flesh like a serpent. She was trying desperately to yank the devil off its feet. Molly flung himself forward beneath the hurricane of chains. Yasha shouted. Just above Molly sailed the cart. It crashed into the devil, sent it scattering across the dirt. Beau was on it before Molly - whacked it across the skull with her quarterstaff. And then punch, punch, kick. All before Molly even came up beside it. The devil’s muscles tensed. The chains dropped, flaccid and lifeless. Molly sliced into the devil’s torso - twice - and black, putrid blood sprayed across him and Beau. It was thick and goopy like tar, stunk of rotten eggs.

Quarrels from Nott’s crossbow were whistling over their heads, skewering the flying devils as they closed the distance. Fjord disentangled himself from the chains with a pained grunt. Jester conjured her lollipop with a delighted cry, batted away the swarms of spined devils. The chains suddenly reanimated, flung out from the devil's body, rewrapped Fjord and snaked around Molly’s and Beau’s feet. The hooks bit painfully into Molly’s muscles, yanked him to the ground. He shouted in anger and pain as blood filled his boots. Beau kicked at the devil, whacked it with her quarterstaff as she was dragged toward it.

Molly hacked at the devil's face. His blade sparked off the chains wrapped around its head. The devil snarled at him. And then there was a sneering face and a bald head. Tattoos and scars curled across the side of its face. 

_ Lorenzo. _

Panic flooded Molly's veins. He had to get away. He couldn't die again.

“Let go!” He shouted, his voice high and reedy with panic, delving back into Infernal. He pulled at the chains desperately as they wormed their way around his legs. He was going to be crushed.

“Didja think you could get away from me?” Lorenzo drawled as he rolled to his feet. He was so tall, leering down at Molly with such arrogance. Molly didn’t want this memory. He had to get away!

“ _ Auf Wiedersehen! _ ” Caleb shouted.

The devil was suddenly gone with a pop. Jester’s lollipop swung uselessly where the devil’s head was.

“Aw, Caleb!” Jester cried in disappointment.

Molly collapsed back into the dirt as relief rolled through him, the panic gone, but he was still shaking. The devils above them were circling like vultures. Beau hopped to her feet, helped Molly stand, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“You’re good, man.”

“Get down here!” Yasha shouted up at the devils. There was a vein pulsing in her forehead.

“We,” grunted Fjord as he rose to his feet. “Have! Got! To go!”

“To where?” Beau snapped. She was watching the devils as they wheeled above them. The cultists were closing in fast. They had no time.

“Just fuckin’ move!”

“Where’s Harald?” Molly asked.

Beau grabbed him by the sleeve, dragged him after Fjord and Jester as they cut deeper into the farmland.

“I’ve got him!” Yasha announced as she scooped up the boy.

Jester duplicated herself, left it dancing in the field with the lollipop as they ran. Caleb blasted a fireball above and behind, toward the spined devils. The fire did little damage, but the force of the blow sent them spiraling and screeching. That gave them just enough time to lose the devils in the fields.

Caleb was incredible. Molly wanted to kiss him.

 

“You let him run!” Beau shouted accusingly at Caleb.

“I’m sorry.” Caleb’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Did you want to fight him  _ and _ the kyton?”

They were hiding in a barn on the edge of a field. Harald was sitting between Molly and Yasha, staring blankly at his feet. It had taken them hours to reach this point, this tiny barn not too far from the treeline. It was well into the night now and the rain had gotten worse. It was drumming against the roof with a steady drone. Molly was exhausted from all the running and his back was beginning to pain him once more. But he was far more worried about Harald. Molly never had real parents. He supposed Gustav was the closest thing he ever had to a father, so he could only imagine what it must be like for Harald to witness the horror of seeing his mother die so gruesomely. Whenever he looked at the boy he was horribly reminded of Caleb when he was at his worst. Molly hated it. No one should suffer like this.

“I don’t know,” growled Beau. “But maybe we could’ve killed that son of a bitch. Did you see what he did?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to fight that.” Fjord announced.

“Me neither!” Jester and Nott said together.

They were going to run. 

They were going to run and leave Harald here and leave the village to rot and the thing in the woods that spoke to Molly. They were going to leave the orb. They were going to leave The Judge. 

They were going to leave and it was because of him.

Yasha reached across Harald’s back and squeezed Molly’s upper arm. Molly sighed. Beau’s eyes darted to him before they returned to Fjord and Caleb, and Nott and Jester.

“So now what?” Beau asked. “Is this our house now?”

“We gotta get the fuck out of here!” Nott answered. “We found out what happened to that guy, right? He’s dead.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Beau asked.

They all looked at her with curiosity.

“Like, the whole thing.” She continued. “I know it’s fucking weird. There’s a devil in the woods, this cult, the farmers, that fucking asshole with the gross breath. But...the whole thing is just weird, right? Like,  _ really _ weird. It started when we were in Zadash, right? Ten thousand. That’s an awful lot of gold to find one asshole.”

They all shifted uncomfortably. Fjord was rubbing his chin.

“I knew,” he muttered. “This was bullshit from the beginnin’. Damn it! I feel like a damn fool.”

Jester gasped. “Do you think the Gentleman  _ knew _ the cult was here? The devil, too?”

“I got some words for him.” Fjord said grimly.

“So,” began Molly. “We're leaving.”

All heads turned toward him. He waited for one of them to say something, waited for Caleb to say something. His eyes were focused on Caleb. He needed to have Caleb on his side. It was important. When everyone remained silent, Molly huffed out a quiet, involuntary laugh.

“Good. Great.” Molly's voice was a growl. “That's fantastic. I'm glad.”

“Molly,” began Caleb.

“Listen to me for fuck's sake!” Molly snapped. They all - save Beau and Yasha - flinched at his outburst. He hated being angry with Caleb. It was awful. Poisonous. 

“I'm listening.” Beau said.

“Whatever is out there,” continued Molly. “That  _ thing _ \- it got in my head. It got in Jester's head. It got in everyone's head out there, maybe not in the same way, but it did. Whatever that thing is, it's hooked its fucking  _ talons _ in everything out here. People are dead! We almost died,  _ all of us _ , not just me. And what's to stop this thing from spreading somewhere else? Well, I don't want it. I don't want that to happen. I don't want a thing that can - that can get in my head like that! So I'm being selfish.”

Caleb frowned at him. Molly took a breath, fighting the lump that was forming in his throat, and continued.

“If you all are being so...I don't even know the word for this. I'm not special or precious. I'm just a person. You all gave me a second chance. Somehow. And now it seems like you're all afraid what might happen next. I'm not going to live forever, I'm not a god. I'm going to do good while I'm here.” He jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I'm a good person! And I'm going to stay that way. I hope you decide to come with me because otherwise you're going to have to tie me down or knock me out or kill me to keep me from going into those woods and finding that  _ thing _ and killing it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well, let's fucking get it.” Beau said with determination.

“Yeah!” Nott echoed, brandishing her crossbow.

“What about Harald?” Jester asked.

“This is stupid.” Caleb muttered. “We don't even know where it is or where to go...and Molly, and uh Jester, are you certain it is a good idea to go into the woods? If it can get in your heads…”

“Caleb,” said Jester. “I know you're worried, but I want to kill it, too. It was scary having it in my head and it needs to die.”

She was so casual about explaining it that Molly almost laughed.

“I also would like to kill it.” Yasha stated.

Fjord sighed. “Fine. But we're bein’ careful. No stupid risks. If shit goes all to hell, we're dippin’.”

“What about Harald?” Nott asked, echoing Jester’s question. Her voice was sad.

Jester crouched before Harald. Nott moved to follow, but then seemed to think better of it and stopped.

“Hey,” she whispered. Harald didn't look at her. “Harald? Do you have any other family out here? Is there someone who can look after you?”

“He has two aunts.” Molly told her.

“Do you know where they live?” Jester asked him.

“South,” answered Harald. His voice was far away. Caleb had his back turned. “They’re carpenters.”

“Do you trust them?” Molly asked.

Harald nodded.

“How far?”

“Far.” Harald replied simply.

“We gotta make a fucking decision soon.” Beau announced. She was looking out the grimy window of the barn.

Caleb quickly snuffed out his dancing lights, purely on reaction. With the lights gone, Molly could make out the flicker of torchlight.  _ Fuck. _

“Oh my gosh,” hissed Jester. Her eyes were glowing disks that reflected the faint light. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

She helped Harald to his feet. Yasha grabbed a pitchfork from where it hung on the wall. Fjord was already at the back of the barn, a hand on the small side door in the wall. They all paused, listening. It was hard to hear anything above the rain. Molly slipped up beneath the window, Nott and Beau right beside him, and peaked outside. He spotted five torches bobbing in the field, the shadows of several figures too far away and indistinct to count, and something jagged that he couldn't make out, but was positive was an array of pikes, boar spears, and forks. 

Beau held up her hand to the rest of the group, fingers splayed out to indicate five. Then curled that hand into a fist, spread the fingers of her other hand, and exploded it behind her fist. Her face contorted as she silently mimed the sound of a burning torch. She wrapped both hands around her quarterstaff, shaking it up and down like a spear. Molly watched with amusement as she continued to silently describe the scene to the rest of the party, who somehow seemed to understand exactly what she was communicating. 

Fjord nodded. He pointed to Yasha and then to Harald. Yasha nodded. Caleb's hand slipped into his coat and he slunk up between Molly and Nott. Beau was moving to the center of the barn to stand beside Jester, both of them tensed and ready to spring into action. Nott slowly and carefully unlocked the latch on the window and pushed it open with barely a squeak. They paused. Nott readied her crossbow. She pulled back the string, set the catch, rested the tiller atop the edge of the open window, then set her quarrel. Molly looked back at Caleb, made brief eye contact (Molly didn't miss that his blues were faintly reflecting the distant torch light), before he winked and wrapped an arm around Nott's middle.

Nott took a breath.

She waited.

Molly could hear the distant voices growing nearer through the drone of the rain.

Nott took another breath.

Then click, snap. She fired her crossbow. There was a scream.

“I got him! I got him!” She screeched. “AH! What the fuck is that!”

A droning buzz filled Molly's ears. He yanked Nott away from the window. Beau was looking up at the roof.

“What the fuck?” She hissed.

Caleb shot a fireball out the open window, wasted no time. Fjord flung the door open. Yasha rushed out, scooping up Harald. The roof splintered and broke with a deafening crack as a grinning, skeletal monstrosity burst through the ceiling.

“Oh, shit.” Caleb muttered.

Nott was screaming. The creature hovered over them, held aloft by the buzzing wings of a locust. It was made almost completely of bone, jagged and sharp, ribs and vertebrae held in place with thick, gory strips of flesh. A pointed, scorpion tail dangled from between its gangly legs. Rain glistened over its hard exoskeleton. Its face was horrific - a mask of death, fanged and predatory, replete with hooked horns and razor-sharp bone splinters. In its hand it held a long polearm made of bleached bone, its hooked point stained brown with old blood. It let out a low growl.

“Did you really think we wouldn't find you?” Its voice was like sand, soft and dry.

Fjord and Jester grouped up behind Molly and Beau. Caleb ducked behind Molly.

“You can't hide.” The devil continued. Molly could hear the click of Nott's crossbow as she readied it. “It doesn't matter where you run to, we will find you.”

She fired. The bolt hurtled from the crossbow with a snap. It carved through the air, pierced the devil in one of its bloodshot eyes, sent its head snapping back from the sheer violence and force of the blow. The devil roared. The barn groaned, its walls sagging.

“Molly!” Caleb shouted as he slapped Molly across the back.

Molly's muscles were vibrating. His blood was coursing through his veins with such speed that he could hear it. Everything around him slowed to a crawl. The devil's hand slowly reached up to its face, moving as though it was trapped in molasses. Beau, normally blindingly fast, slogged up to the beast and cracked her quarterstaff against the devil's legs, then her fists. The devil reared back to swipe.

This was his opening. 

Molly ignited his sword with blinding light and darted in. He was so fast! The adrenaline coursing through him was intoxicating. Summer's Dance bit into the bone devil's chitinous hide once, twice, thrice. Blood oozed slowly from the wound like honey. Molly thought he could have dodged the droplets if he had the desire. Everything around him was happening so slowly, he was hardly registering it. He was aware of the shouts and the movement, but it wasn't important. He was dicing the devil to bits. He was so fucking fast! 

A slow, echoing crash. Then the wall behind the devil was slowly, very slowly, being devoured by flames. Molly didn't stop. The fire was nothing to him. He'd have the thing dead long before he had to worry about the flames. Cultists were spilling into the space, but Molly didn't care. He didn't want to fight them anyway, he only wanted the bone devil.

The wall began to collapse, slowly, and then the roof. There was shouting, but there was always shouting.

“Molly!” He heard Beau shout, her voice strange and slow. “Come on! We have to go! The roof!”

The devil's wings began to whir, still fast to Molly's eyes. Molly took a swipe at it as it lifted off, snarled in frustration when he missed, and turned to flee. Caleb was already moving, Nott hot on his heels. Jester and Fjord were bashing their way through the crowd toward the barn door. Molly took a step and then was beside Caleb and Nott. He slashed at the nearby cultists, keeping them off Caleb. He didn't see the devil's barbed tail, didn't see the venomous hook until it was piercing Caleb's shoulder. He shouted, his voice quickly gaining speed as the haste spell ended.

Molly's muscles were lead. He slowed to a stop, his stomach churning. Everything was suddenly moving too fast. Caleb was a blur as he dropped to the ground, Nott immediately beside him. Molly couldn't move, not even to deflect the blow that struck him across the shoulders from an unseen attacker, couldn't even feel the pain.

Then Molly was shooting into the air, rising far too fast, his scimitar falling away. Pain. Everything was slowing, back to its normal speed. But the pain came first. It stabbed across his shoulders, tugged at his skin. Everything was red. There was a hook in the meat of Molly’s shoulders, grinding against his bones. He screamed, hands flew up to grasp at the devil’s polearm, tried to lift himself off the hook. Nott was screeching, firing bolts at the bone devil. Molly kicked at its legs as they both rose up to the ceiling. The devil’s tail came around, jabbed into Molly’s stomach. He felt the venom burning his veins, felt the blood spurting from the new wound, but fought it off. The devil was laughing at him.

“Fuck you!” Molly spat back at it in Infernal.

“You’re mine now,” the devil snarled. “Mongrel!”

“Molly!” Caleb shouted, face contorted with pain, hand reaching into his component pouch to produce a bit of molasses.

The devil laughed as the spell washed uselessly over its body, but a group of cultists surrounding Caleb slowed to a near stop. Beau was smacking away the cultists, trying desperately to get to the bone devil. She flung her darts at, but they glanced off its thick hide. With a bang, the barn doors swung wide and sent several cultists into the ground. Yasha charged in, slamming the cultists aside with her mighty shoulders and stabbing with her pitchfork. She hurled the pitchfork at the bone devil, following it with an angry roar. The pitchfork snapped against the devil’s hide. Molly released one hand, wincing at the sudden spike of pain, and snatched the broken end of the pitchfork. He cracked the broken bit of wood against the devil’s fingers. Yasha leapt up with a savage roar. Her massive arms wrapped around the devil’s tail and all three of them jerked to the floor. The devil loosed a ferocious hiss at Yasha. It held Molly aloft with one spindly arm, the other sweeping around to claw at Yasha. A blistering beam of greenish arcane energy blasted the devil square in the chest from the crooked, black sprig of wood Caleb was pointing at it. His face was twisted into a mask of rage and pain. 

“Put him down,” snarled Beau as she whacked the devil across the legs and arms with her quarterstaff. The devil’s skin split and blood sprayed from the wounds. “Asshole!”

More bolts snapped against the devil’s face from Nott’s crossbow. With a roar that shook the barn, Yasha yanked the devil, slamming it into the floor. Molly rolled to his feet, tugged the hooked polearm from his back with gritted teeth. Oh, he was going to kill this thing.

“The roof!” Beau shouted again. “Gods damn it! The fucking roof!”

Yasha’s hand twisted in Molly’s coat and tugged him away as she dashed out of the barn. Her other arm wrapped around Caleb’s middle, Nott leaping up onto Beau’s shoulders behind. Yasha shunted aside any cultists that got too near. Molly snatched Summer’s Dance off the floor as they ran. The roof groaned and cracked. Fire and burning wood was falling around them. The cultists were fleeing in a panic. Molly slashed at them as they ran past, making sure not to deal killing blows to any who even looked remotely like a farmer. Yasha burst through the smoke out into the rain, Beau right on her heels. Molly almost bowled into the both of them.

Jester was rushing around the side of the barn, Fjord right beside her and launching eldritch blasts into the crowd. Her eyes widened when she saw the bloom of dark blood across the back of Molly’s coat.

“Molly,” she cried. “Stop getting hurt all the time!”

Yasha and Beau were still running. Molly didn’t slow. He saw Caleb’s pale face, recognized the telltale signs of sickness from the venom. Molly could help. Molly could cure it, just needed to get to Caleb. Behind them, the barn collapsed.

They made for the treeline. The trees loomed over them, a tall and black and jagged row of crooked teeth against the night sky. Yasha slowed to a steady trot once within the woods, only stopping once everyone was nearby. Molly pulled Caleb from Yasha’s arms, ignored the pain across his shoulders, and set him carefully down on the ground.

“He’s dead!” Nott wailed.

“I’m not dead,” groaned Caleb.

“Mister Caleb,” said Molly gently as he pressed his fingers to the wound on Caleb’s shoulder. “Just hold still a moment.”

Blood ran from Molly’s nose. He pulled his hand back, a line of blood and sickly yellow-green fluid connecting his fingers to Caleb’s wound. Caleb shivered as the venom was pulled from his body.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Molly smiled at him. He put his other hand on the back of Caleb’s neck.

“Anytime, love.”

Molly rose to his feet and helped Caleb stand.

“Um, where’s Harald?” Jester asked.

 

The burning barn illuminated Caleb's form as he spun slowly in a circle, continuously casting message. Nott was standing a good distance away and performing the same spell. Molly kept an eye out for Harald along with the rest of the group. They all stuck close to the treeline, ready to bolt if the bone devil or the mass of cultists returned.

Molly felt the knot of worry tighten in his gut as the minutes slipped by. He was beginning to suspect Harald got grabbed, taken away from the only people he had. They needed to find him. Molly wanted to shout. What if the boy was simply out of range of Caleb's and Nott's spell? He doubted Harald hung around once the barn caught fire and especially not after the bone devil burst through the roof. Molly paced anxiously. His tail was twitching, matching Jester's. This was fucked up. Part of Molly wished they'd never come here, had never left Zadash. But then who would be here to help these people? But...Matilde might still be alive if she hadn't protected them and Harald might still have a mother.

_ Fuck! _

“Oh!” Nott cried excitedly before her voice dropped back down to a whisper. “Oh! Oh! Oh! I found him! I found him! He's hiding this way!”

She scampered off toward the barn.

“Nott!” Caleb hissed.

They darted after her, making a wide, circuitous loop to avoid the sightline of any potential foes. A small figure silhouetted by the flames was rushing toward them.

“Molly!” Harald shouted, his voice tight with panic.

Beau reached the boy first, shushing him harshly. Molly skidded to a stop. He could swear he heard a faint buzzing above the drone of the rain and the roar of the burning barn. Fjord slowed beside him, Caleb not too far. They were both looking at him with a combination of curiosity and trepidation. 

“Do you hear that?” Molly asked.

Nott screamed. Molly whirled to see the bone devil rocketing out of the sky. It slammed Nott into the ground with its talons and then grabbed her and flung her toward the burning barn.

“Nott!” Caleb shouted.

Molly dashed toward the bone devil, filled with rage. He had to kill it. This fucking thing had to die. Fjord appeared in front of it, coming out of a blur of arcane fog. He struck it with his falchion before it rocketed back into the air. Harald was screaming. Molly roared in frustration and came to a stop beside Fjord. Caleb hurled a handful of firebolts at the devil as it vanished once more into the night sky. Beau was standing over Harald's prone form, both hands firmly wrapped around her quarterstaff and glaring up at the sky. Jester and Yasha darted toward the barn.

A moment passed. 

And then another. 

Molly could hear Nott groaning from where she was flung, but could no longer hear the buzzing of the bone devil's insectoid wings.

Then the hooked polearm appeared from the darkness, the desiccated form of the bone devil behind - and all directly above Caleb. It was too fast, faster than Molly, faster than all of them. The hook dug into Caleb's torso, lifted him into the air with startling ease. He screamed in bloody agony.

Molly didn't hesitate.

He invoked Summer's Dance, stepping through the frigid, interdimensional space between himself and the devil. In a flash, he was beside it and slashed at it with both hands. The devil tilted from the force of the blow, but was otherwise hardly hindered.

And then Molly was falling. 

His shout was cut short as he came crashing down to the earth with a sickening crunch.

It was darkness and pain and red and rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harald leads the Nein out of the tavern. Decay shows up, gives a speech, and then kills Matilde. The Nein escape through the farmland thanks to Caleb's clever casting (which Molly is thirsty for), doing battle against a chain devil along the way. They hide in a barn after hours of running, but are ambushed by cultists and a bone devil. The cultists light the barn on fire with lanterns and the Nein are forced to flee. They lose Harald briefly and are once again ambushed by the bone devil. The bone devil kidnaps Caleb. Molly is injured by a desperate use of misty step.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Not Caleb.

No no no, not Caleb.

Not his Caleb. 

Not his wizard.

Not after everything. Not after Molly only just coming back, only being alive again for a few months. Not after finally,  _ finally _ having Caleb in the way Molly dreamed of and wanted. Not after the door was finally opened and Molly could see all the possibilities laid out before him with Caleb at his side.

They should’ve left. 

Fjord was right. This was a snake pit and Caleb was pulled into it. If they’d left, Caleb would still be here. They should have left. 

_ You should’ve left. Stupid. Stupid! He’s dead now and it’s your fault! _

He's not dead. He couldn't be dead. No, Caleb was a survivor. He'd find a way. Molly knew Caleb must have survived worse. The wizard had the scars as evidence.

But that hook. 

That wicked, jagged hook that pierced him with horrific ease. Molly knew the pain of it, was suffering from it now long after it was removed. Each breath was agony. He remembered how he almost passed out from being lifted into the air, saved only by his natural toughness from being...whatever the Nine Hells he was. He had no trouble imagining the pain Caleb was in, how much he was suffering. 

“There!” Jester announced. Molly flinched involuntarily at the volume and suddenness of her cry. “All better!”

Molly grumbled a thank you and pulled his freshly repaired, previously broken arm against his stomach. He didn't even bother to rise to his feet. Yasha was nearby, as always, her burned arms folded across her chest, and her mismatched eyes trained on him. Molly didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the treeline, tracing the jagged outline of the spindly branches. Caleb was in there somewhere. He was in there somewhere and probably dead or dying and it was Molly's fault. How would Molly even find him? The woods were huge. He couldn't track the devil in the air, none of them could. There was no hope to find Caleb. Molly couldn’t bring himself to rise to his feet.

Caleb was gone.

Molly was dimly aware of his friends talking behind and around him. He couldn't pay attention to their conversation. Caleb was gone. It was all Molly’s fault. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks.

“Molly,” said Yasha gently as one of her massive hands dropped to his shoulder. “Fjord and Beau have a plan. We're going.”

Molly slowly rose to his feet. He sniffled, wiped his hands roughly across his face. Fine. Yes, fine. This would be fine. Maybe they knew what to do, how to find Caleb. How to find Caleb alive. He knew he could trust them. Molly's friends were arranged in a loose circle behind him, lit by the roaring flames of the burning barn. Harald was lingering a few feet away beside Nott, who was holding Harlad's hand in one of her frankly adorable little, goblin paws. Jester was looking at him with concern from beside Fjord. Molly flashed her a smile that came out as a grimace. Yasha immediately turned and marched closer to the barn, offering him no explanation. Molly followed, simply out of habit; his magnetic attraction to Yasha was ingrained, instinctual. She crouched, examining the sloppy mess of tracks that poured from the barn in all directions.  _ Oh, of course!  _ Yes! This was good. This was great. If they could find someone, Beau could beat the truth out of them.

Reinvigorated as hope surged through him, Molly crouched beside Yasha to help. He instinctively knew how to track, one of those skills he didn't remember ever learning. He was better when it came to supernatural creatures, could feel their presence in his skull like a beacon, but he was good enough at this. Especially with Yasha's help. Between the two of them, they were able to find a set of tracks - several sets of tracks - that were going off into the woods in roughly the same direction as the bone devil's flight. Molly all but ran into the woods, Yasha beside him and his friends following with excited shouts. He didn't hesitate at the treeline. He plunged into the woods, slowed only for a moment to reorient himself to the sets of tracks and for Yasha to help guide him, and was once more following the panicked mess of footprints.

 

This was taking too long.

They should've found someone, something by now. With each minute, each second, Caleb was probably closer to death. This was a mistake. Molly had fucked all this up completely.

_ Failure. You're a failure. A complete cock-up. _

The horrific image of Caleb being yanked into the air by the bone devil was burned into the back of Molly's eyelids, even clearer now in the darkness of the woods. He could still hear that horrible, terrified scream of absolute agony; could still smell the burst of blood; that sickening feeling of his blade whistling uselessly through the air, hitting nothing. How in the Nine Hells could anyone, particularly some as delicate as Caleb, even remain conscious when dragged through the sky by a jagged hook hundreds of feet above the woods. Molly could imagine the blood pouring from that wound.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up into a hole and wither up and cry. Caleb will have bled to death by now, of that Molly was certain. But he had to keep going. He had to  _ try _ to find Caleb at least.

Molly heard voices. He froze. How could he be sure he actually heard it and it wasn't in his head? Doubt wormed its way once more into his mind. What could this devil do to his head? How else could it make him hallucinate and twist his thoughts against him?

Beau stopped suddenly beside him, held her hand up behind her to halt their friends. Yasha crouched into a ready stance on Molly's other side. They listened. Definitely voices. Molly couldn't make out what they were saying, but that was hardly important. Nott appeared between his feet, looked up at him, set her crossbow and slithered into the foliage ahead. Beau followed. Molly and Yasha slipped to their right, Jester and Fjord to their left. Harald stayed behind, hidden against a large tree in a tangled mess of underbrush.

Molly could already feel adrenaline surging in his veins, making his blood sing. They were fast approaching the not-so distant voices. The conversation was becoming steadily clearer.

“They can't have. Fren tossed them lanterns at the barn, whole thing gone up like a tallow candle.”

“Would you shut up? We're supposed to keep an eye out.”

“We're just talking! Don't need to be quiet to see.”

Molly peered past a break in the trees. There wandered a group of cultists, carefully picking their way through the clearing. One of them held aloft a gleaming lantern and Molly could just barely make out a twisted, hunched form stalking just beyond the lantern light. This gaggle of cultists was chattering too loudly to hear Molly's and his friends’ approach, especially not above the rain. One of them jerked to the earth with a grunt, a quivering bolt jutting from his throat.

Molly leapt into action. Yasha was on his heels, her massive hands clenched into fists. Fjord appeared in the midst of the group with a crackle of arcane energy, sent them scattering with a few well-placed strikes. Molly ignored the cultists, went straight for that hunched and jagged shadow that was quickly bounding into the melee. A friend, a devil. He could sense it, taste its acrid taint on the air.

With a roar, the devil lunged at him from beyond the lantern light with a jagged glaive. It was red, dressed head to toe in blackened-iron scale armor adorned with polished hooks and chains that gleamed in the lantern light. Its face was a fanged mass of twisting, ropey tendrils that ended in barbs. Its skull was adorned with a crooked set of intimidating chipped and scarred horns.

Molly danced away from the bearded devil, drawing it back toward his friends. It took the bait, stepped after him on cloven hooves, and prodded again at his defenses. Molly snapped his scimitar up across the haft of the glaive as it cut in just before it would strike true. His blade skated up the haft, sparks flying off the metal, and cut into the devil's mass of snapping tendrils. It roared at him, at the pain, and its barbed beard bit into Molly's forearm. He wrenched away with a grunt, taking a few severed bits of beard with him.

A spray of darts erupted across the devil's face. It roared and reared back with a quick, but desperate, defensive swipe. Rage coursed through Molly's veins even as he easily stepped back from the blow. This was  _ his _ kill! He whirled around. Beau was giving him a thumbs up as she quickly closed the distance. Fjord and the others were easily subduing the cultists behind her. Still, Molly shot her a feral glare and turned back to face his opponent. He would dominate with a show of might. Force this creature to submit and then they would see how deadly he was, would realize that he needed no help from them. That they needed help from  _ him. _ Beau would be dead if it weren't for him after all.

All he need do was kill it before Beau got to it. Molly dove in for the kill with a reckless cut to the devil's throat. It brought its glaive up at the last moment, slapped aside Molly's scimitar, spun the other end of the glaive around. It would've cracked Molly's skull wide open had he not brought his hand up in time to take the brunt of the blow. Molly staggered, slipped. His knee smashed into the ground in the worst way. His vision was swimming. Pain - broken splintered hot - was shooting up his hand and arm and blooming across his knee. The devil swung once more at him. Molly managed to bring his scimitar up in a parry. The glaive skated off Summer's Dance, slipped up and across Beau's upper arm as she drove her fist into its temple. With a violent crack, the devil’s horn splintered and twisted away from its skull.

It stumbled, snarled at them, swept its glaive in a defensive arc in front of it.

Then it turned tail and fled.

Molly shouted in rage and bolted after it.

 

Molly was stumbling blindly through the woods in a rage after the bearded devil. His left leg wasn’t cooperating, obviously not getting the memo that they needed to  _ fucking move gods damn it! _ With every movement it felt like his knee was going to pop off. He held his left arm tight against his side, ignoring the shooting pain in his hand and wrist, other hand wrapped tightly around Summer’s Dance.

“Molly!”

Beau was following him.

“For fuck’s sake, dude, stop!”

“No!” Molly snarled back.

“Dude, your fucking hand is broken, I saw it! Stop for just a second and let me look at it, you fucking lunatic.”

Molly ignored her. He couldn’t stop. Not until he found Caleb. He needed to find Caleb, couldn’t let him die, and he needed to kill that bearded devil and then that bone devil that took Caleb.  _ Especially _ that bone devil. He was going to rip it to shreds with his hands and his teeth if that’s what it took to kill it. He would follow it into the Nine Hells if that’s what it took. That bone devil had made a deadly mistake. It took his Caleb. It took his wizard.  _ His wizard. My wizard. Mine. _ And Molly was going to shred it, rip it apart, pop out its eyeballs, pull its flesh from its bones and its bones from its flesh and drink its blood and suck down its marrow.

And then he would have Caleb back and they would be happy.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf!” Beau shouted. “You shit-head!”

He glanced back at her, but didn’t stop. She always looked so  _ fucking stupid _ with those goggles.

“I have to find him.” He snarled.

“Hey, man,” her voice was softer. That caused Molly to slow. He didn’t stop, but he was no longer rushing blindly. “We’ll find him. Just let me see your hand.”

Molly stopped with a huff. He let her look at his hand and clenched his teeth as she carefully set the bones. Then she wrapped it tightly with a length of cloth. It was improvised, a bit shoddy, but well-done given the limited tools. Molly wasn't surprised Beau knew how to deal, at least somewhat, with a broken hand.

“Done?” He asked. His voice was tight with pain.

“Don't you think maybe we should wait for everyone to catch up?” Beau asked. She was still holding his busted hand, effectively keeping him from peeling off into the trees.

Molly, for a terrifying moment, bared his teeth at her. He quickly looked away and chomped down on his lower lip to hide his silent snarl. Beau tensed reflexively, but didn't let go of his hand.

“Molly,” she began carefully.

“There’s no time for this.” He interrupted. “That thing took Caleb and we’re wasting time. What if...what if I don't find him? What if he's…I don't have time to stand around and explain this to you. I have to go and I have to find him! I have to find Caleb.”

Her eyes quickly darted over his face.

“Shit, dude.” She murmured. Beau was giving him that familiar, understanding look that he knew made Caleb uncomfortable. “We’ll find Caleb.”

Molly was off. He didn’t wait for Beau to follow. Something was tugging him deeper into the woods, a compass centered on him and pointing deeper and deeper. This was a familiar feeling. It was like he could sense where the bearded devil went, could sense a mass of devils deep into the woods. This was a supernatural sense. It was almost as if he could smell it, taste it on the air. It was acrid, rotten and toxic, a blight on the land.

The devils couldn’t hide from Mollymauk Tealeaf.

“Hey,” said Beau, interrupting his thoughts. “Molly? I want to...apologize. Seems like we’re all putting a lot on you.”

Molly frowned. “What?” He was trying to concentrate and she was distracting him with words.

“It’s just,” she continued. “We all missed you, man.”

Molly rolled his eyes, his tail twitchy with irritation.

“Let me finish before you get mad at me. We all missed you and we’re all glad you’re back...and, uh, I get that you’re mad that everyone is laying all this on you. You know, treating you like you’re - what? Something sacred I guess? It’s not fair.” She paused. “So I’m sorry. I don’t want to do that to you...and you’re right. We should help these people. We can’t be worried about what might happen all the time or we’re never gonna do anything.”

Molly looked back over his shoulder at her, raised an eyebrow. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised with how insightful Beau could be sometimes. She was smarter than she seemed, certainly smarter than him (Molly felt kind of dumb sometimes), and few things went past her notice.

“Thank you,” he sighed, returning his attention to the distant beacon of vague, fiendish energies.

“Yeah, man. I know I can be a huge bitch sometimes…”

“So can I,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, but you’re the kind of bitch people like.”

Molly stopped. He looked back at her.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. She gestured ahead of them. He could see the flush of embarrassment creeping across her face. “Let’s just keep going.”

“We’ll talk about this when we get out of here.” Molly continued on the trail. “For the record, you’re the kind of bitch I like. We have matching tattoos, afterall.”

 

Molly didn't know how long they trekked through the woods. Didn't even know where they were or where they were going, only that they were steadily growing closer. 

And that Beau was slowing him down. Why did she follow him? He could handle this himself. He didn’t need her. Who did she think she was? Did she think Molly couldn’t do this on his own? She was babying him, just like the others. She was only blowing smoke up his ass earlier, trying to get into his good graces and grovel and kiss his ass. He wasn’t permitted to do anything on his own anymore. They were all always trying to do something for him, treating him like a child. And this was no different. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they see how deadly he was? Didn’t they see his scars, how he could bleed himself and use that to kill?

Molly growled in frustration.

This  _ thing _ was already in his head.

She already said she was sorry for all that, all the shit their friends were putting on Molly's shoulders. She was sincere. He smacked himself in the forehead, his hand still wrapped around Summer's Dance, in a futile attempt to clear his mind of that shitty trail of thoughts that were worming around in his skull like maggots.

“Molly?” Beau asked warily.

His head snapped in her direction. She had put some distance between herself and him. He could close the distance quickly, but she’d have that quarterstaff cracking across his face before his scimitar could get to her. He swallowed. He had to keep that out of his brain. Molly didn’t want to be calculating the ways he could gut Beau with his scimitar, how to get past her defences, how he needed to make an example of her so the others would bow and obey.

“You alright?” Her voice was tense and her stance guarded.

“No,” he ground out.

“Yeah, I could tell. I’m gonna keep both hands on my staff.”

Molly nodded. He stamped down that surge of anger that bubbled up, that thought of  _ how dare she? _ They didn’t have time for this. Molly didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for this thing in his head, this thing that was ripping him out of his own body and putting something else in his place. He didn’t have time to stop and talk. He would never find Caleb at this rate. Caleb would be dead by the time Molly found him...if he wasn’t already.

_ No. _

Those were bad thoughts. Anxiety was twisting and coiling up around his heart like a venomous serpent. He could feel its fangs in him. Molly needed to find Caleb. He needed him to live, needed him to be alright. Caleb couldn’t die out here in this unnamed woodland by this unnamed village that wasn’t even on their map. Molly needed Caleb. He needed those tiny, barely there smiles; those rare, quiet, little laughs and chuckles that he tries to hide. He needed to see those gorgeous, blue eyes again; the blush that krept across Caleb’s sharp cheekbones; how he tapped his fingers against his lips when he was thinking; the way the light caught in his ginger locks and turned it a warm copper. Molly wanted to feel those lips on his own again and again and again, to taste the sweet remnants of honey. He wanted to spend his nights and mornings and days with Caleb, would be perfectly content - even happy - sitting there beside him in a tavern or curled up against him on a soft, warm bed while the wizard worked or read. Would love to hear his voice as he read to Molly. He wanted to see Caleb happy. He wanted to kiss away all those scars. Every one of them. 

Molly didn’t want to imagine not having any of that. Not because Caleb was gone, at least. It would be a different thing if Caleb was still living and decided he didn’t want him. At least he would still be alive. Molly was certain he could deal with that pain, but not this one. 

Especially not when all this was his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like an asshole for not updating this sooner, but you can go on ahead and blame Capcom for releasing the truly excellent remake of Resident Evil 2. It's completely absorbed me, especially for someone who's earliest gaming memories are playing the original on PlayStation when I was far too young.
> 
> Special thanks to Code for pointing out some errors in chapters 3-7 that have been fixed.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super special thanks to Code for helping me make this chapter better!

Caleb was forced into a crouch by the osyluth - the bone devil. Its hook was still lodged in his side, and every tiny movement caused a stab of pain to run through him. The osyluth had flown them both over the woods for forty-five minutes. And the entire time, Caleb somehow managed to stay conscious. It hurt so much, almost too much. It was some of the most torturous, agonizing pain he ever remembered. His entire side was soaked through with blood, making his coat stick to him. It all hurt too much for him to do more than grip the hook as he was dragged through the air, unable to reach his spell components.

His only comfort in those painful minutes was Mollymauk. Caleb kept his eyes closed, letting his perfect memory conjure Molly's face: those cheekbones and that disarming smile, the tattoo that fanned down the side of his face and neck and disappeared into that billowy shirt that always managed to slip down his shoulder sensually, his dark, curly hair that somehow always smelled like incense, those red eyes that were gemstones, the elegant curl of his horns that Caleb often imagined wrapping his hands around. He remembered Molly's laugh, that lilting accent. He remembered the plum colored blush across Molly's face and neck and chest, the way his nose scrunched up and mouth dropped open in pleasure. Caleb remembered the feel of Molly's hands and mouth on him, the forked tongue, his soft lips as he kissed Caleb, blessing him with that spicy, cinnamon taste.

It helped to think of Molly.

Caleb was in a stone circle with the osyluth. There was something etched on the surface of the stones. He could barely make out the scratches in the darkness, but it was unmistakably Infernal. He recognized the jagged, painful, and authoritative script; how it gave him a headache just from looking at it. This stone circle was different than the one they found nearly two days ago. That worried him. How many of these were there and why?

“Behave,” the osyluth rasped at him, one of its bony talons digging painfully into his shoulder. “There are plans for you.”

They waited for an hour and a half, an agonizingly slow hour and a half. The pain only made the time drag ever slower. With nothing but the rain and the darkness of night, alone with the osyluth, Caleb could only focus on the pain. He kept a hand wrapped around the hook piercing through the meat of his side, trying to keep it from shredding his flesh. It was impossible. With every small movement, every shallow breath, the hook bit through his flesh. It was too much to move and reach into his coat for his spell components. Would he even have enough strength to cast any kind of spell that would get him out of this? Caleb's only option really was to bide his time and hope he did not die. At least he could count on the hook plugging his wound, effectively keeping him from bleeding to death.

He had to stay conscious. If Caleb could stay conscious, he would live. If Caleb could live, he would see Molly again.

Eventually, figures emerged from the trees. Caleb recognized the shape of Decay's horns, that hideously twisted crown. It reminded Caleb how elegant Molly (oh, and Jester of course) looked with those gently curved ram horns. Surrounding Decay was an array of cultists and villagers. One of them, a burly half-orc, had Yasha's sword and stood just behind Decay with her massive arms folded across her chest. Decay was flanked by a pair of barbazu - bearded devils - in black, jagged armor. Their spined beards were coiling like serpents, and they had long glaives in their clawed hands. They looked almost like an honor guard for the tiefling.

Caleb worked to fight back the sudden surge of panic. This was getting more difficult by the minute. But if he stayed focused, he could escape. He could escape and get to Molly and see him again, and he would do whatever Molly wanted. If Molly wanted to stay with him for hours and hours, he would do it and would not care if another member of their party found out. If Molly wanted to go to a bathhouse, Caleb would do that and not care about who saw his scars and what his twisted body looked like in the nude. If Molly wanted to go dancing or drinking or indulge in the controlled chaos of a festival, Caleb would do that without a single complaint and would stay for as long as Molly wanted. Whatever Molly wanted, he would want that too. He controlled his breathing, keeping his eyes locked on the space just beyond Decay and his entourage. All he needed to do was wait.

Decay crouched in front of Caleb. His lips were scabbed and scarred, burning eyes framed with heavy bags, face and arms cut and crisscrossed with ugly, ropey scars. The chipped horns came in close to his cheeks as they curled around his head. He was missing half his right ear. Caleb recoiled when Decay opened his mouth to speak - the stench of sulphur and rot rolled out on his breath.

“Well,” he said, his voice splintered and cracked just like his fangs. “I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I am called Decay. It was a name I chose for myself when I came out here. I am the rot and ruin of the enemies of Akerion.”

“Uhh...Jacob.” Caleb replied slowly. Of course this person was dramatic. Caleb wondered vaguely if being dramatic was an inherent trait in all tieflings or just the ones he had met so far.

Decay chuckled.

“Alright, Jacob.” He reached out and touched the lapels of Caleb's coat. Caleb tried to flinch away, but the hook kept him painfully in place. “This is a nice coat. How long have you had it?”

Caleb frowned. “Years.”

“I used to have a coat like this. Didn't have the coin for a new one.” Decay pulled Caleb's coat open, hummed appreciatively at the holsters, and pulled out every book he could find. “You know, I grew up in Rexxentrum. Have you ever been?”

Caleb was tense. He hated this tiefling's touch, the way his hands groped at his body, took his belongings in his dirty hands. Hated how the bastard's fingers flipped through his books.

“There's no need to be nervous, Jacob. I don't bite. I want to get to know you.”

Caleb swallowed. “I have been to Rexxentrum, yes.”

Decay nodded. “That place is a shithole. An infected, bloody pimple on the asscrack of the empire. It's pulsing with maggots. There's flies hovering around it. It leaks puss and blood, and it's rotting out the flesh around it.”

Caleb grimaced. “That is one way of putting it.”

Decay chuckled. “You were one of those maggots, I think.” He snapped Caleb's spellbook shut. “Feasting on rotting flesh and scrabbling around in the fetid scab while the flies looked on. You got fat on the decay, didn't you? You benefited from the agony, didn't you? All the while I was trapped in the pus. I can see it in the way you walk, how you cast your spells. Just like those shit-suckers in Rexxentrum.”

Caleb swallowed. “What,” he asked. “Is your point?”

“My point,” continued Decay. “Is that I hate people like you. I grew up poor in Rexxentrum while you Soltryce Academy assholes looked down your big noses at me.” He reached out and pinched Caleb's nose. Caleb flinched. “I lived in shit and piss and blood. And now look at us. You're a vagabond and I'm...this.” He handed Caleb's spellbook to the barbazu that stood beside him.

“I want you to imagine this. A little tiefling boy, just learning he can cast a few spells, does it for tricks in the slums to make a few coppers to buy dinner.” Decay's hands returned to Caleb's coat, invading his space for far too long with those grabbing hands before eventually pulling out his component pouch and handing that to the barbazu as well. “And all the while, he's hearing about the Soltryce Academy. He could become something great there, already knows a few spells. Surely they'll take him. Does this sound familiar yet?”

Caleb frowned at Decay. It did sound familiar. He really did not want to have this conversation. He really did not want to hear more.

“Well?” Decay asked when Caleb did not answer him.

“It sounds familiar.” Caleb swallowed. Decay smiled, his lips cracking.

“I know it does.” He dropped his hands between his thighs, clasped them together. “I know you also know how people look at tieflings in that part of the empire. Imagine a little tiefling boy sneaking his way through the streets to the gate, the entrance to the academy grounds, imploring the guards to let him through. Imagine one of those guards has a club. You know what I'm talking about; it has studs and metal bands around it.” Decay reached up and pushed his greasy hair back from his forehead to reveal a wicked scar sunken deep into his scalp. Caleb could track it all the way to where it disappeared by his horn, transforming into a crack that split through the horn. “Imagine they dump this little tiefling boy in a gutter in the slums. Imagine this little tiefling boy is dying, curses the flies buzzing around in the Soltryce Academy, bleeding out in filth and piss and shit. Then he hears a Voice, someone else who can teach him spells.”

“Is this meant to be you?” Caleb asked. Definitely dramatic. Bastard absolutely could not wait to monologue.

Decay laughed. “There's more details than that, but essentially.”

“Why do I need to know this?”

Decay smiled, and it was a hideous, twisted thing, a jagged wound split across his face.

“I want you to know,” he replied. “Who you'll be working for. You see, I need your help with something.” He held out his hand. The half-orc stepped forward and dropped a dodecahedron, the beacon, into Decay's hand. “I want you to tell me what this does.”

Caleb looked at the dodecahedron and then at Decay. His mind quickly formulated a plan.

“If I tell you,” began Caleb.

“I want you alive.” Decay interrupted. “I need you. But first, you will tell me what this does.”

“It is like a crystal ball.” Caleb lied easily. “Mostly a party trick. Our fortune teller used it to trick people out of coins.” It did not feel good to lie about Molly like this, but he was desperate. Maybe Decay would toss it and one of Caleb’s friends would find it and track them. “It does give you visions if you touch it and concentrate, but it is all an illusion. Just a tool to trick and deceive. You just tell people there are roads before them and they must make the correct choice.”

Decay looked at the beacon in disgust. It would seem the tiefling believed his lie. Decay rose to his feet, looking down at Caleb. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes.

“How do I use it?” Decay asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Caleb swallowed. He was about to take a big risk.

“Uh, it needs two sets of hands.” He said to Decay. The tiefling raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, just like a crystal ball. I could try to turn it on, but I have only ever seen my friend use it, so I am not sure if I could.”

Decay looked from Caleb to the beacon and then back again.

“I think you’re lying.” He said. “This _does something_ , but you’re not telling me what.”

“There is a hook,” groaned Caleb. “In my side. What possible reason could I have for lying?”

“Then show me how to use it.”

Caleb held out his hands. Decay narrowed his eyes at him. He was chewing his lip.

“You,” hissed Caleb through the sudden spike of pain. “Could let me show you or you could kill me with your morning breath, I suppose.” Decay huffed a laugh. “But if you do that, then you will never know what this does.”

Decay let Caleb put his hands on the beacon. The moment passed when he felt reality shift ever so slightly as the beacon’s power passed into him. When he came back, Decay was looking at him expectantly.

“Well?” Decay asked.

“Did it not work?” Caleb asked, filling his voice with surprise. He took his hands off the beacon. “You are supposed to have a vision. Perhaps I did it wrong.”

Decay straightened. With a huff, he dropped the beacon to the ground. The osyluth let out a low, steady growl.

“Thank you for wasting my time.”

“You are the one who did not believe me.” Caleb pointed out.

Decay huffed out what might have been a laugh.

“So I did.” He said. Decay folded his arms, glaring down at Caleb. “There is one more thing I need from you.” He gestured to the stones around them. “You’re going to help me finish my work here.”

 _Oh shit._ Caleb felt all the color drain from his face. Decay grinned sadistically at him.

“Get him up.” Decay told the osyluth.

Caleb yelped as the osyluth yanked him roughly to his feet. He could feel the hook twisting around in the meat of his side, a fresh burst of blood, and everything went black for a moment while the osyluth held him in place. When Caleb came back to himself, Decay was looming over him.

“Afraid?” He asked. “Don't worry. It's not so bad. We just need to turn this on, and I need two people to do it.” He pointed to himself and then to Caleb. “Since one of you killed my friend, since one of you killed Birna, I think it's only right you help me.”

Caleb's eyes darted around the stones.

“Why now?” He asked, voice strained. “These have been here a long time. As have you.”

“There was not enough fuel.” Decay told him. “We were doing it slowly - gathering fuel. When you lot showed up, you made sure to shed enough blood. No more delays. Get to work.”

 

One hour and fifteen minutes later, the Infernal written upon the standing stones was exuding a soft, reddish glow. The smell of sulphur and rotten meat was hanging in the air. Caleb could hear the distant drone of a buzzing cloud of insects, yet there was no sign of them.

This was bad. Certainly not the worst thing Caleb had ever done, but very bad. He had worked out the intricacies of the spell, part of it at least, as he helped Decay go through the ritual. It was obvious this was part of a multipart spell, layered upon itself, worked into the very earth and woven deeply into the woods. So deep it was essentially a part of the natural order of the forest. The spell was well made, if old fashioned. These stones were nodes—essentially giant spell foci—and it was likely they were arranged in these woods in a specific pattern. No, they _absolutely were_ arranged in a specific pattern. The distance between these standing stones was mirrored exactly by the other set of stones Caleb saw in the wood. It was all constructed with meticulous, painstaking, analytical precision. The perfect, exacting nature of the spell worried Caleb. Clearly whoever built this spell knew without a doubt what they were doing. But there was more.

The spell required fuel, like any spell, but with components of the necromantic variety. Corpses, blood, bone, and rot. And these components need not even be specifically given up at the standing stones. The spell had such a wide net that it could pull fuel from anywhere within five miles of these stones; likely from around the others as well. The natural order of the woods themselves was generating fuel. Any death and decay would add to the spell, slowly building up energy over time until the spell could be cast.

Soon—as soon as the spell was complete, which could very well be tonight—the nodes would activate, having drawn enough power from the wood and the bloodshed to conjure something. Caleb knew it was something terrible. Caleb knew it was this mystery devil, Akerion. Yet he hoped in vain that it was not. He hoped this spell would fail somehow, as unlikely as that was. Perhaps he had missed an obvious weakness. Perhaps whatever mind had constructed the spell and designed the equations had spent too much time working out the small details and accidentally left a weakness that Caleb had not seen.

It was just so perfect. Caleb could admire a well-crafted spell equation no matter who was responsible for its design. He was almost jealous of the brilliant mind who crafted this gorgeous and horrific spell, so perfect and hideous in its complexity and efficiency. There was even a sort of ventilation system set up to drain excess arcane energy and filter in fresh power so that it was never stagnant. Caleb could not figure out a way to dismantle it, at least not yet. He would need a bit more time to pull it apart, but he had at least part of it memorized now. Caleb could extrapolate on the spell's built-in defenses, clued in by the necromantic qualities of the spell and by the conjuration elements. He was reasonably certain this spell could defend itself, even anywhere within the five mile ring. But the fact that Caleb could determine all this could be enough. He would have to be careful, bide his time, and wait for an opening to make his escape. Then he might have a chance at undoing all this work.

And now this node was absolutely humming with arcane energy.

Caleb started, winced at the pain lancing up his side from his poorly bandaged wound, as a sudden crashing erupted in the woods. A barbazu burst through the trees. One of its horns was missing, black blood pouring down its face from the wound, and half of its beard hung loose in severed strands. The cultists close to it cried out in surprise and fear, all but leaping away from it as it rushed up to Decay.

“Commander,” the barbazu growled at Decay in Infernal. Caleb was glad his most recent comprehend languages spell (he had to cast it several times during the ritual) was still operating. “I'm being pursued. It's the invaders.”

“My friends.” Decay gestured to the cultists and the pair of healthy barbazu. “My companions. Guard my back while I finish our work. Rend them apart and show them what happens when our enemies do not submit.”

Caleb wanted to roll his eyes. He was familiar with these theatrics. It was all designed purposefully, he knew.

“We still have work to do, my friend.” Decay told Caleb. The osyluth and the wounded barbazu nudged Caleb onward, following Decay deeper into the woods.

 

Another node activated. This one went smoothly, finished within forty minutes. Caleb could have finished it within twenty, but he spent the extra time to work through more intricacies of the spell and prod for weak points. He even managed to discreetly dismantle a portion of the equation so that it would rewind and replay a specific sequence until it ripped itself apart. It would be simple to repair, but he hoped nobody would find the sabotaged portion of the spell until it was too late.

It was two hours before sunrise. Caleb was exhausted. He had hoped to have escaped by now, but the osyluth was vigilant in its duty. Its hideous, sulphuric yellow eyes were constantly trained on him, and it always stood within eight feet of him - plenty of distance for it to jab that hook into him and yank him toward it in a single motion. At least Caleb knew exactly where they were, now.

This was the set of standing stones where they had found Yasha. Caleb recognized the stone against which Mollymauk had rested, looking up at him with a pallid expression and dull eyes. Caleb remembered clearly the fear, how certain he was that Molly was dying, slowly bleeding out with the pain writ clearly across the tiefling's features. He had looked like a ghost. Caleb remembered clear and stark how his hand had come away dark with Molly's blood when he touched the tiefling. He remembered, just after that, how Mollymauk had changed. Had become something wild and savage. He really never wanted to see that again. Yet he had a feeling he would. Caleb had no doubt Mollymauk was pursuing the devils, was definitely in the woods and being influenced by the mysterious presence. The thing was trying to turn him into something else or kill him.

“Good work.” Decay praised Caleb, clapping a hand across Caleb's shoulder. “There is one more thing. We go to the pit.”

 

There was a wound in the earth. Caleb could smell it long before they stopped at its ragged edge. The smell of sulphur hung in the air and was once more paired with the heavy, cloying stench of rotten meat. Caleb could see wolves stalking along the edges of the pit, their bodies hunched and movements jerky, something slithery and disgusting worming over their bodies that immediately made Caleb think of maggots. There, again, was the distant droning of a plague of insects.

Dawn was breaking over the treeline, with rain slowly drizzling to a stop from the scattered clouds. It would have been beautiful if Caleb was not standing on the edge of a fetid wound, surrounded by devils.

Decay was just ahead of him, and the barbazu at his left. The osyluth was pushing Caleb toward the tiefling. Still, there was no opening for an escape, but Caleb felt there would be an opening soon. They were coming up to something big. The osyluth brought Caleb up to a halt beside Decay at the edge of the pit.

This pit was carved deep into the earth, reaching down and down and down, deep into the roots and marrow of the wood. Mud was running down the sides of the gash around a set of rickety switchback stairs stabbed into the side of the pit nearest them. It rolled and dripped downward to collect in a sticky slurry at the very bottom, several hundred feet down. In the center of the pit sat a milky white stone that exuded a faint, reddish glow. It stood upright, pointed up at the sky like a dead man's rotten finger. Caleb needed no spells to feel the dark, hideous pull of vast rivers of arcane energy being dragged to this last focus. The energy was heavy in the air, weighing everything down and muffling sound and prickling against his skin like static.

Caleb imagined he could reach out and touch it.

The possibilities were running rampant in his mind. This could be his opportunity. He still had several spells he could cast. Decay was a fool if he thought Caleb kept all of his material components in one place.

Decay held out his arms to the pit.

“Behold,” he announced dramatically. “The gateway to the Nine Hells! All we must do is prepare the land for Akerion's arrival.” Decay took a deep, shaky breath and turned to Caleb. “You first.”

Decay tugged Caleb toward the stairs, shoving him in front. Caleb went with no fuss. They made their way down the switchback stairs, each step offering up a noisy creak and forcing out a fresh bubble of mud from the wall. The putrid stench of carrion and brimstone grew stronger as they approached the bottom of the pit. Caleb’s boots sank a full four inches into the sludge as he stepped off the stairs into the slurry at the pit’s bottom. His heart was pounding in his ears. That bony finger of faintly glowing stone was so much larger here than at the ragged edge of the wound, so much more ominous and terrifying. Caleb was filled with dread when he gazed upon it. Decay stepped past him, his eyes trained reverently on the stone pillar. Behind Caleb lurked the barbazu, gasping wetly as it struggled to regain its breath. And above, fluttered the osyluth.

_Perfect._

Caleb took a risk.

He quickly dug into his bandages, pulled out a little, clay cat's paw, and cast Maximilian’s earthen grasp. The barbazu shouted in surprise as a giant cat's paw smashed it into the earth. Caleb bolted before the barbazu could react. The osyluth dove down toward him as he fled, but it was not nearly enough to stop him. Caleb put a good distance between himself and the barbazu before he reached once more into his coat. Decay was stalking toward him.

“Jacob!” Decay roared, his voice magically amplified. “You traitor! You stupid man!”

The osyluth was closing the distance quickly. Caleb kept his eyes on the devil, more concerned with that than with Decay, who could not get good sight on him with the structural supports of the stairs between them. Once the osyluth was nearly within striking distance, Caleb cast expeditious retreat on himself with a smack to the chest and zipped up the switchback stairs. Behind him, the barbazu leapt to its feet as it was freed from the earthen grasp, but was far too slow to catch up with Caleb.

“Fuck!” He heard Decay shout.

The osyluth screeched. Caleb heard Decay shouting in Infernal from the bottom of the pit as Caleb skidded to a sudden halt at the edge of the pit. He took a breath, digging his fingers once more into his coat. He turned quickly to face the pit, unconcerned with the wolves at the moment, and kept his eyes trained on the osyluth as it lifted Decay into the air toward him. Caleb needed distance. He zipped away, closer to the treeline. And just in time. The osyluth was quick in the air, even weighed down by Decay. It dropped Decay on the ground, the tiefling stumbling with the landing, and darted toward Caleb with a low grumble in Infernal.

The wolves all stopped at once and turned to face Caleb before they slowly stalked toward him. Caleb's mind quickly worked out a plan. Just a single spell could slow all them down - the wolves at least - and then all he need do was put the trees between him and his foes. The osyluth blazed toward him through the air. Caleb pulled out his back up bit of sulphur and bat guano from where he kept it in his belt, pointed his finger in the middle of everything, and then a tiny ember bolted from his finger and exploded into a deafening blast as his fireball erupted. The osyluth was absolutely unaffected, but the wolves were sent scattering. An eldritch blast (Caleb recognized the spell) smashed into Caleb's shoulder, another launching just over Caleb's head. He winced at the impact and at the sudden burst of pain that shot through his torso, blooming from the poorly cared for wound in his side, but managed to keep his footing.

“You fucking coward!” He heard Decay shout. The tiefling’s hand vanished into a black void and tugged on a rusted and gore covered chain that appeared in his hand. A book covered in hooks and wrapped in a length of chain was birthed bloody from the void and fell into his hands with a wet spatter. With it came a cloak of flies that swarmed around Decay like a hideous fog.

There was still a fair distance between Caleb and the treeline, but he actually had a chance of getting away now.

Caleb caught a flash of color bursting through the trees, lit dazzlingly by the rays of the morning sun. He recognized that shape immediately.

_Mollymauk!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fun trivia: Decay was a villain I never got to use in a D&D game I ran several years ago.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special thanks to Code for fixing my commas even when she didn't have to.

_ Submit! _

His head was stuffed with cotton. The word, the command, was muffled in his skull and was his only clear thought. 

He  _ hated _ it.

He wanted to get his teeth around it. He wanted his claws in it. He wanted to taste its blood and feel its bones snap and crack. He wanted to hear its sinew rip.

It was wrong. This voice in his head between his horns was wrong. It wasn't him, it was someone else. The voice was not his. The voice belonged to a stranger. He didn't want it. He didn't want to be what  _ that _ was; he wanted to be himself. He didn't want to be anyone but himself. 

Who was that person? He was beginning to forget. He didn't want that, hated it, and was afraid of forgetting. He didn't want to forget again. He didn't want to forget himself. He liked that person.

But this voice was strong.

_ Submit, mongrel! You  _ will _ belong to me! _

It was forcing everything away, shoving it down and destroying anything that was him and replacing him with  _ something else _ . But he fought it. He fought it viciously. He refused to obey its commands. He would defy this thing until there was nothing left of him. Until the bitter end. This thing would not destroy him, at least not easily. He would make sure of that. 

And it couldn't take everything away from him. He could still remember he needed to go somewhere. He could still remember he needed to find someone. Someone important. He remembered copper and blue skies and the sweet taste of honey on his lips and rough hands and scars and a smile that was always too scarce and a surprisingly quick wit and a voice that could be the only sound he'd ever hear again. His wizard. He remembered he wanted to see his wizard again. He remembered he wanted to touch his wizard again; wanted to kiss his wizard and taste that honey again; wanted to breathe in that smell of sweat and wood smoke again.

He remembered they took his wizard. A  _ devil  _ took  _ his _ wizard away, hurt his wizard, and he  _ needed _ that man. He would be dead without Caleb Widogast. Yes! That was his name! He needed his  _ Caleb Widogast.  _

Caleb Widogast was somewhere deep in these woods, and he was going to find Caleb Widogast and be with Caleb Widogast again and touch him and hold him and kiss him. He wasn't going to forget Caleb Widogast. He would forget himself before he forgot  _ Caleb Widogast.  _

 

_ You know, pet, I'll stop bothering you if you just do as I say. I'm not so bad once you get to know me.  _

_ I just don't want you to waste your time out here. He would never love you like I do now, anyway. I know I am harsh, but I am only telling you the truth, and you know better than most that the truth can be painful. I am not here for bullshit. You know he lies to you. You know he lies to everyone. He doesn't even want them all to know about you and him. How can he be ashamed of something so wonderful?  _

How? 

_ That's right, pet. You're better off without him.  _

_ Come find me. _

Stop talking to it! Stupid!  _ Stupid! _ It's lying. Gotta find  _ him. _ Need  _ him. _ Ignore the pain and ignore the voice,  _ idiot _ .

 

_ He's dead. You know he’s dead and you know it's your fault. There is no point to what you're doing. No purpose to your life. What are you anyway? A mongrel with no mother or father, born in the dirt like a slug. Like a maggot. You're worth nothing to no one. No one but me. I love you, creature, in spite of all your flaws. Give yourself to me. I will make you whole. All you need is surrender and submit.  _

_ That other one is nothing. He's dead, my love. He's dead. I'm all you've got now. He's dead.  _

 

Who's dead?

_ Stop forgetting! It’s Caleb Widogast.  _ No. Caleb Widogast does not die. Caleb Widogast survives. Do not forget. Do not forget Caleb Widogast. Just go. Don't stop. Don't stop for a moment until you find Caleb Widogast. That voice, that  _ thing _ , can eat all of his entire ass. Both cheeks, the middle part — the whole blessed thing. At least then it would be useful for something aside from being so... 

“ _ Fucking annoying! _ Can you hear me? You're fucking annoying!”

“Molly?”

Who is that?

“Hey, whoa! It’s just me, man, remember? It’s your bro, Beauregard. We have matching tattoos, remember, Molly?”

He wanted to growl at her. He should growl at her. There was no time for this.

 

Deeper into the woods. Follow the threads. Pain. Pain. Pain with each step. Fresh wounds and new blood and cuts that pull on bruised skin. But follow the pull. It was deeper in.

_ Submit. _

No, no, no.

Ignore the voice. Defy the voice. Keep going. It was nothing. Further. Can't stop. Keep going. Not done. Not finished. Not yet. Something missing. Don't stop. Don't rest. Follow the pull. Chase the threads. Ignore the voice. The voice is nothing.

_ You are weak. You are a weak thing. _

Ignore it.

_ Do not ignore me, mongrel! _

No! It hurts! Skull-cracking pain! Shouting and red and hot!

_ Submit! Submit, maggot! I am your master.  _

No, ignore it. Pain is temporary. There has been worse. Died before and lived. Woke up in cold dirt beneath the moons with dead flesh and frozen bones. Saw a face — a handsome face — gone blank. A ghost. Busted and split rib cage, carved apart with a gleaming blade. Spine pierced and tail cracked and horns chipped. This is nothing. Just a voice. No one. Can't see them. Desperate. Trying too hard with too much force. Fight it.

 

_You are nothing. You are no one._ _You are mine._

 

Rage.

Hungry. 

Blood and broken fangs and cracked nails and death-screams.

Hunt and eat and drink. Destroy. Kill. Devour. And kill and kill and kill and kill and kill kill kill kill kill  _ kill kill! _

 

Deeper. Further.

 

Don't stop, not yet.

 

So tired. Tired and hungry and thirsty. So much pain and so tired.

_ Sleep, pet. Take a rest. You have worked so hard. _

No. Go. Don't stop. So tired, but don't stop. One more step. One more step. One more step. And again. And again. And another. 

 

Fuzzy. Full of cotton and fuzz. Stuffed and muted and dull. Even the voice, gone. So dark and cold. There is nothing here. Whoever was here before is long gone now. Gone and with no replacement. A void. A non-death. Death brings life, but there’s nothing here, just a desert. It's all gone empty.

 

Empty.

 

Shouting. 

Running. 

Roars and snarls. The trees open, split apart. A field. The sun. A drop of blood. And there,  _ copper. _

Copper and honey and rough hands and scars and too-rare smiles and the blue sky on a clear day and wood smoke and shy kisses and it was  _ Caleb Widogast!  _ Caleb was alive! Seeing him was like being splashed with cold water, being awoken with a harsh, but necessary shake. It was a meal to someone dying of starvation. It reminded him he wasn’t a beast, he was a person, and there was that  _ fucking _ bone devil! He was going to rip it apart! He was going to drink its blood and eat its marrow!

But first...first his attention was drawn to this other tiefling. Drawn to that smear of gore at the edge of the wound in the earth. He was an invader in that tiefling's territory and he had to kill that other tiefling and he would be the master of these woods and then no one could tell him what to do and they would all obey  _ him! _

 

Everything slowed to a stop.

The bone devil hovered more than sixty feet away from Caleb, its head turned toward Molly's hunched form. Caleb's eyes darted between Molly and Decay. The two tieflings were eyeing each other, tails twitching in agitation, lips curled back in silent snarls. Molly straightened to his full height, threw his shoulders back, and tilted his head up to complete the display of the dominant tiefling challenger. In any other circumstance, Caleb imagined it would be a sexy look on Molly. In actuality, was terrifying. He did not look like himself. He looked like a devil. Molly was soaked with rain and stained red with gore both new and old. And opposite him Decay was a drop of blood glistening in the morning light. They both looked like animals, like wolves, glaring at each other across the distance, their hackles raised and bristling with savage, primal rage.

A wicked grin sliced across Decay's face.

“Mongrel,” snarled Decay, his voice amplified by the use of thaumaturgy. “I was wondering when you would come and kneel.”

Molly did not answer except to growl, low and guttural and feral. Fear began to twist in Caleb's gut. Something was wrong.

“I know you can hear Him.” Decay reached up and tapped a finger against his skull.

Molly began to pace. He did not take his eyes off Decay. The barbazu came bounding up the final set of steps, gasping for breath and with both hands wrapped around its glaive. Molly's tail lashed and his head snapped between the barbazu and Decay.

“Why do you keep fighting it?” Decay asked.

“Molly! Gods damn it!”

Beauregard burst forth from the treeline, forty feet down from Mollymauk so that she was closer to Caleb than the tiefling. Yasha was right behind her with the Magician's Judge slung across her massive shoulders. The both of them were covered in blood and bruises and cuts. 

There was a pause. Both sides eyed each other in the silence of the waking wood. Even the wolves were silent.

With a roar, Molly darted toward Decay.

“Stupid!” Decay shouted as he launched a series of eldritch blasts at Mollymauk. Caleb watched helplessly as the blasts struck Molly across his shoulders, causing him to stumble. A wave of relief surged through Caleb when Mollymauk was immediately back on his feet.

Beauregard was running across the backs of the swarm of squirming wolves toward Decay. The osyluth was moving to intercept. Caleb darted toward Yasha, carried still by his expeditious retreat. He wanted to get beside Molly to slap him with a haste spell, but Yasha was the safer bet. He would save his spell, though, as she seemed in fairly good fighting shape. She was carving her way through the wolves with frightening ease, slowly moving closer and closer to the heart of the combat. Caleb tugged tight his glove of blasting — one of the items he managed to cleverly hide from his captors — and positioned himself beside and just behind Yasha. He was running low on spells and did not want to expend too many until he was closer to Decay, where he could do maximum harm. He loosed his glove of blasting at the wolves, sweeping his arm in an arc in front of him. The scorching rays bored through the wolves. Their skin split open as they fell, and a mass of writhing, bloody snakes burst forth from their carcasses.

Caleb shouted in fear and surprise. Yasha bellowed, stomping on the serpents and carving apart the wolves. But the dead wolves did not stay dead. They fell and rose again, blood and viscera and snakes pouring from their wounds. All Caleb could do once his glove was expended was pump firebolts into the wolves and snakes. The snakes struck at him and Yasha. The aasimar woman was unaffected, but Caleb could feel the burn of venom in his veins from the needle sharp fangs. He could only grimace as his muscles began to turn to lead, a strange counter to the speed with which expeditious retreat pumped his muscles. Still, they made their way through the slowly thinning swarm, ever closer to Decay. Caleb just needed to be within sixty feet.

There was shouting from the other end of the field. A familiar voice was screaming in Infernal. Jester. Caleb could see her pounding across the field, Fjord hot on her heels and Nott just behind. She ignored the wolves as they swarmed toward her, answering Decay's challenge in Infernal with her own, but Caleb could not keep his focus there. He had enough to deal with. All he could do was be thankful his companions had made it here safely. He was confident they could end everything here. They just had to be smart.

When finally there was a break in the swarm, Caleb zipped toward Decay. He ignored the osyluth locked in combat with Beauregard and Molly — and now Fjord as he suddenly blinked into existence behind the osyluth and struck twice before vanishing — and ignored the barbazu as it began to stalk toward him. His focus was on that damn tiefling. Decay locked eyes with Caleb, whipping around with that gory book in one hand, the hooks and spikes on his armor turning molten in the dawn. Caleb’s hand dipped into the hem of his tattered shirt, pulled out a length of iron, and immediately began to fly into a panic when he saw Decay tracing the rectangular outline of a door in the air.

“No!” Caleb shouted. He could not counter it. Dimension door was too powerful of a spell for the limited arcane ability Caleb had left this day. With a triumphant smirk, Decay stepped through the door and vanished.

The bone devil's head snapped in Caleb's direction. It slapped Beauregard away, rose fluttering into the sky, ignored Mollymauk's desperate strike at its tail, and lunged at Caleb. That hook came sweeping toward him. 

_ Shield! _

With a crash and an ear splitting screech, the hook skated off the semi-transparent, pale blue orb of arcane energy that surrounded Caleb. And then came a second strike like lightning from the osyluth's barbed, scorpion tail. His shield was not enough this time. The barbed tail again pierced his stomach.  _ No.  _ No, he had to keep expeditious retreat —  _ needed _ to get near enough to Decay to cast hold person. He had been saving it. Everything rewound, slipping back through the streams of time, back the half-second it took for the barbed tail to pierce through his shield. And then it played through again, this time with a different outcome. The tail clashed against his shield. Caleb hoped he had just made the correct decision.

Fjord blinked behind the osyluth once more. His falchion carved deep into the devil's spine and then split apart its ribs. It roared and swung out with the back of a clawed hand.

“Shit,” was all Fjord managed to get out before he went smashing into the earth.

Caleb shot away from the osyluth to get as close as possible to the edge of the pit while still making sure to stay within thirty feet of the osyluth. He reached beneath his bandages, pulled free a chicken feather, and cast fear. He made sure to angle the spell so he did not include any of his companions in the spell. With a pulse of gray-green shadow, the spell washed over the osyluth and for a moment seemed to do nothing. It was as if the osyluth’s very flesh was attempting to repel Caleb’s spell, but he could sense the moment it took effect. The osyluth froze. Its hook dropped from its grasp, sinking deep into the muddy earth, and it let loose a terrified wail. The osyluth's eyes were wide with fear as it fled from Caleb.

Mollymauk was in hot pursuit, teeth bared. Yasha intercepted the osyluth, finally free from the swarm of wolves, greeting it with a mighty swing of her blade. The Judge cleaved through the osyluth's forearm and deep into its sternum. Bones snapped, flesh ripped, and blood sprayed from the osyluth's severed arm. It squealed and swiped at her with its remaining arm. Mollymauk was almost on it, but Beauregard got to it first. She drove the end of her quarterstaff into the osyluth's sternum as it whirled from its strike at Yasha. The thing crumpled beneath her and then she was cranking her staff back and forth, splitting its chest wide open, and then Molly was on it. He dropped his scimitar and was snarling as he plunged his arm into the osyluth's open chest cavity. 

Caleb turned away. That fight was over and he knew he would vomit if he watched Mollymauk rip the osyluth apart like a hungry wolf. Fjord was wrenching his falchion free of the barbazu. A moment later, it vanished into a puff of acrid, yellow smoke. Jester was impatiently pacing by the edge of the pit, snarling in Infernal and alternating between glaring down into the pit and at her companions.

“Caleb!” Nott shouted as she wrapped both her arms around his legs. “I  _ knew _ we would find you! Does it hurt? I know that you have a delicate constitution and aren't too strong and…”

“Nott, I am all right.”

“...you're not that great at making new friends…”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Jester!” Nott called. “Caleb's hurt. Could you…” Her voice trailed off when faced with Jester's withering glare.

“Stop wasting time.” She snarled.

“Jess,” began Fjord carefully. He had one hand up in a calming gesture, but Jester just seemed to hate it. “I think we could probably spare a moment.”

“Don't tell me what to do!” She snapped. “You're not the boss of me!”

“Jester, please, I was just…”

“No! I am in command. Get everyone here  _ now! _ We have to go down there!  _ He's  _ down there in that stinky pit!”

Fjord looked helplessly at Caleb. Caleb shrugged. He knew what was happening, but he did not know how to fix it. If only they had convinced Caduceus to stick around.  He disentangled himself from Nott and tried his best not to run to the pit. A good part of him was terrified of what he might see, but everything down there — hundreds of feet down where he could just barely see — seemed calm. He could sense no surge in arcane energy, no trip to the trap he had left, and could only see the drop of blood that was Decay standing still in front of the stone monument.

“Molly!” Beauregard was shouting. “Would you stop sprinting everywhere!”

Molly bowled past all of them. He wasted no time, dashing down the set of switchback stairs as fast as he possibly could. Jester snarled and dove after him.

“Shut up!” Caleb heard him roar above the creaking of the wood and the stomping of feet.

Beauregard was next, followed swiftly by Caleb, who really did not want to keep Molly out of his sight for more than a second. He knew the others would follow, but he did not bother at the moment with tracking where exactly they all were. His focus was on Molly and on Jester and on Decay. He found himself glancing often between Mollymauk and Decay, unsure which of them was more important to keep in his eyeline. Decay was performing a ritual, Caleb could clearly see even from this distance. How long would it take? The others had taken them close to an hour to go through, but Caleb had no way of knowing if this final ritual was in anyway long or short. From what Caleb could tell, Decay was beseeching his patron — Akerion — using only his own words and force of will. It was all in Infernal, of course, but Caleb was intimately familiar with the requirements for conjuring a fiend. This was the final act, the last part, before Akerion was conjured in flesh and blood and bone on the Prime Material Plane. It would only take moments. Caleb needed to be within sixty feet. But how? Damn it, why did he cast fear? He should have foreseen this. Of course he would need expeditious retreat in this moment. Of course, of course! He could have waited another second back there for Yasha to catch up and then they all would have ripped that osyluth apart either way.

_ Fuck! _

Just as Mollymauk took his first steps on the spongy soil at the bottom of the pit, Caleb could feel something  _ twist  _ in the air. Decay burst suddenly into laughter.

“Behold!” The tiefling shouted. “My Master comes! You assholes are the unluckiest bunch of meddlers in all of Wildemount.”

The air knotted, spun round on itself, and began to snap. Caleb could feel the threads of arcane energy as they were pulled taut. Fear was roiling in his gut, quickly turning into panic as all that energy surged toward the monument. They all stopped. Even Mollymauk and Jester. It became clear to Caleb that they could all feel it, not only him and Fjord as he originally suspected. Nott was clutching his pant leg.

“Can you feel that? Oh, it's so fucking good!” Decay was rambling. He had his hands on the surface of the stone. “You all will witness Akerion's return to the land He once claimed! Akerion the Nomad! Akerion the Conqueror! Akerion the Blood-drinker and Bone-cracker! Akerion the Cannibal King!”

“Get him!” Fjord shouted.

With a whoop, Beauregard vaulted over the side of the stairs and dashed toward Decay. Nott set her crossbow and followed with a decidedly goblin-like screech. Fjord blew past Caleb with a curse at the ready; he just needed to be close enough. Molly and Jester hesitated. Caleb watched them carefully. Something about the way they were just staring up at the monument was making his hairs stand on end. Decay was the same...for a moment before he snapped out of it and turned to face the charge. His jaw dropped open and he began to belch and gag as he vomited forth a buzzing swarm of insects that cloaked his body in a hideous cloud. And then he began to cast a spell.

“You all should be afraid of me,” he growled.

Nott and Fjord skidded to a stop, gasping with sudden fear. Beauregard was unaffected. She charged right at Decay and cracked her staff across the side of his skull and then peppered his chest and stomach with a flurry of punches before he could even react to the initial strike. Decay groaned and curled in on himself. Then Beauregard was shouting and swatting at the insects as they swarmed over her, biting at her and filling her with their poison.

Caleb shoved past Molly and Jester, the both of them still staring slack-jawed at the monument, running until he was within range of Decay. He reached beneath the collar of his shirt and once again tugged free the length of iron. As Decay recovered from the flurry of Beauregard’s fists, he was held rigid by Caleb’s hold person spell. At least for a moment he was. As Decay’s muscles began to stiffen from the spell, it was as if the magic was yanked off him by another creature’s clawed hand. He looked at Caleb and laughed.

“My Master protects me!”

Then Caleb felt one of the threads of arcane energy go taut. It began to twist on itself, looping back around again and again and again. The thread quickly became tangled, inflamed, and bloated, filling with far too much arcane energy far too fast and with nowhere for all surging power to go. Caleb could feel it beginning to rip and split.

Beauregard snapped her staff across Decay’s jaw. Decay reeled from the strike and from Beauregard’s follow up storm of punches. She was growling through the disgusting swarm of flies as they chewed on her. Fjord and Nott paced fearfully, glancing between the monument and Decay, unable to do anything. Decay let loose a roar that became a pained scream as his body was engulfed in flames. They rose around him, reaching out at licking at Beauregard who was cursing and shouting at Decay. This final spell was a mistake. It was like a catalyst for the tightening and shredded threads of magic Caleb had previously sabotaged. The thread snapped. It tore through the air, ripping apart reality as it finally broke. The tear carved through existence like a knife and cut easily through the air and the earth. A black void was revealed where a part of the world was simply deleted. They all were knocked off their feet by a sudden and furious gust of wind that was pulling them toward the void. Decay was screaming, agonized and bloody. The monument shuddered and cracked. A chunk of stone sloughed off and crashed into the earth. Blood bubbled up from the wound in the stone, spurting and gushing forth like a river into the void. Caleb dug his hands in the earth. Blood was welling up from around the base of the monument and quickly began to fill the bottom of the pit. Caleb could hear Beauregard, Nott, and Fjord shouting. Fjord had a grip around Nott’s waist, his sword dug into the bleeding soil; Beauregard doing much the same with her staff nearby. Then Mollymauk and Jester were screaming. They were slowly skidding past Caleb, both of them clutching their heads and writhing in agony. The void pulsed. Lightning burst forth from the open wound in reality. The lightning lanced savagely through the air and tore into the earth and the blood began to boil from the heat.

“You fucks!” Decay screamed above the howling wind. The fire that engulfed him was being yanked violently into the void. “Look what you did! You broke it! And now I’m going to boil you all alive.”

Decay was melting, but still he drew his hands in a line across them. Flames erupted over them, boiling the blood and blistering their skin. Caleb could hear himself and his companions screaming in agony as they were burned. Caleb took another risk and reached into his coat for that withered bit of wood hidden away in a pocket of his coat and pointed it at Decay. A sickly, green lance of energy struck Decay square in the chest and he stumbled and fell back into the blood. Decay panted desperately as he forced himself back up to his feet, but this would be the end for him. The void was hungry and it was devouring him. He screamed as he was drawn like taffy into the void. The hooks and studs on his armor were torn off and vanished into the gaping maw; then came his armor and clothing; his fingernails and the blood and skin and muscle until, finally, his blackened bones. He screamed in absolute agony until the very end.

Then the void collapsed in on itself, folding like an envelope, and vanished as suddenly as it appeared. Everything went completely silent for a moment. Mollymauk and Jester were shivering and whimpering in the bloody earth just out of Caleb’s reach. With a soft groan, the monument tilted and toppled into the soil with a crash that shook the earth.

Beauregard carefully pulled herself to her feet.

“Holy shit,” she said slowly.

“Yeah,” agreed Fjord as he rose and deposited Nott on the ground. “Holy shit. The fuck was that?” He looked at Caleb. “What did you do?”

Caleb did not reply. He shuffled through the blood toward Mollymauk and Jester. Both the tieflings had pulled themselves into a sitting position and were clutching each other and shivering violently.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb asked carefully. Molly turned toward him. He was absolutely soaked and caked in mud, but Caleb did not refuse his crushing embrace. 

“It’s okay.” Caleb whispered.

“It’s gone,” muttered Molly. “It’s gone...and you’re alive.”

Caleb returned Molly’s embrace. How could he not? He pulled Molly flush against him, tightening his grip as Molly did the same. 

Beauregard was pulling Jester to her feet and putting an arm around her. Jester wrapped both her arms around Beauregard and squeezed her so tight that Caleb could hear Beauregard’s back cracking.

There was a frantic thumping on the switchback stairs.

“Yasha!” Fjord shouted. “What the hell? Where were you?”

“Harald,” she called down defensively. “Someone has to watch him, and there were a lot of wolves up there, and you just  _ went _ and didn’t tell me what was going on! What was I supposed to do?”

Fjord sighed. “Where is he?”

“Up there. He’s safe. The wolves all just died when the earth broke.” Yasha leaned out over the railing. “Is everyone okay? Did you kill him?”

Fjord looked around and shrugged. “We’re okay, I think. Ain’t seen that piece of shit since the void closed up. I’m guessin’ we don’t gotta worry about him anymore.”

“He’s gone,” whispered Molly against Caleb’s neck. “He’s gone. It’s quiet.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Jester asked Molly. Her hand and tail were wrapped around his. Neither of them cared how this interrupted their balance.

Caleb was walking beside Molly, just a few feet away, but close enough to discreetly check up on him as they made their way back through the forest to the village. It was blessedly silent. At least in Molly’s head it was. The woods were alive with the whispering wind, creak of wood, and the song of birds.

“Exhausted.” He replied to Jester. “Can’t wait to be back in a tavern and get absolutely trashed.”

Jester nodded. “I don’t know about that second part, but I really want to get out of here. I hated having that thing in my head. Did you hear it just, like,  _ screaming  _ when the sky ripped open? Like, oh my gods. It was so  _ loud! _ ”

Molly chuckled humorlessly. That was horrible. It felt like his skull was splitting open and his brain was being yanked out of his head on hooks. He had thought he was going to die and that he would never see Caleb again. He looked over at the wizard. Caleb was pale, looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and his clothes were stained with blood. But he was alive. Blessedly alive. He was alive and would recover from his injuries, and then they could finally take this infant, blossoming thing between them somewhere. Where that was, Molly didn't know, but at least there was the possibility of something happening. 

Caleb met his gaze and graced him with one of those tentative smiles, and it was beautiful. He was covered in dried blood and bruises and caked in mud, and Molly could smell him from where he stood several feet away, but Caleb's smile was beautiful. Molly could feel the heat rising in his face, and he knew that the smile he gave back was far too large, but he couldn't stop it from happening. He couldn't imagine he would never not throw those big grins at Caleb.

Once they were well within the cover of the forest, a good distance away from the field with the wound in the earth, they all gathered around and took stock of their belongings. Caleb had his books and pouch returned to him, Jester had the beacon once more, and just a fuckton (as Beau put it) of coin was distributed. Molly gave a good portion of his share to Harald. Fjord gave Molly another scimitar they’d found amongst a group of cultists — something that was obscenely sharp and almost seemed to cut through the air on its own. And Nott was proudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen that she had half a dozen magic bolts that did  _ something _ that she wouldn’t tell them.

 

It was well into the day before they finally were back at the outskirts of the village. The plan from here was to take Harald to his aunts and then just get the fuck out of dodge, as Fjord put it, and then Caleb would put up a tiny hut come nightfall. None of them wanted to stay in the village for another moment if they could help it.

Beau was the one to suggest avoiding the roads and trails. Not that the rest of them needed much convincing. Even Molly was very okay with the thought of not talking to any of these townsfolk or potential cultists. Harald was able to lead them through the fields and farms quickly and with surprising skill. He was silent throughout, stiff and wooden. Molly had no real way of helping the boy. He himself was far too exhausted and still was sandwiched between Jester and Yasha. He didn't know if there was anything he could give Harald, no matter how much he wanted to. At least Caleb was okay.

The village was eerily silent. Even the fields were empty of farmers and laborers. Molly thought back to yesterday, when he and Yasha encountered several farmers along the road and could hear them working the fields and passing the time with the silly, nonsense songs humans often filled their days with. But it was deathly quiet now.

It took them several hours, but they finally came to the carpenter’s shop Harald’s aunts owned. The shop was modest. From what Molly could tell, it was nothing more than a barn abutted by a small house with a thatch roof. The barn itself was not overly large — just big enough for a moderately sized cart or wagon to fit inside — and shingled with wood slats. From inside the house, there flickered a candle flame, and the smell of roasting fish wafted out from the open windows. 

Molly waited outside, sitting against the wall of the barn while his friends brought Harald to his aunts. He didn't have the energy for that conversation. Gods, he was tired. His feet must be blistered to oblivion. His legs, particularly his one knee, were throbbing and cramped painfully. His arms were leaden and aching, and his wrists and hands swollen from swinging a weapon for so many endless hours. Molly's back was still a nightmare, and his shoulders were so sore and inflamed that he could barely lift his arms. It would take days — or even weeks — before he was once again in fighting shape. 

Worst of all, though, was his head. Now that he was alone ( _ big mistake _ ) he could feel so many new scars forming and fresh wounds that were poorly healed. How could he be sure it was him in his own head? There was a big, blank spot in his memory that was stretched throughout the woods. Some patches of himself were still there, moments of lucidity that Molly could view through fogged glass, and what he saw disturbed him. Had he really become so much of an animal? So savage? He could still taste the bone devil's bloody heart on his tongue. 

_ Fuck. _

He needed to  _ not _ be alone right now. 

“Molly?”

He looked up to see Caleb slowly and painfully sliding down the wall of the barn to sit beside him. 

“ _ Hallo _ , Caleb,” hummed Molly with a tired, but happy smile. He couldn’t hide his delight even if he wanted to. “Everything good?”

“As good as it can be, I suppose. Harald's aunts are happy to see him alive. Fjord and Beauregard are telling them everything that happened. I think they will all be okay...at least eventually.”

Molly nodded, his horns scraping roughly against the wooden wall of the barn.

“That's good to hear, but I was really asking about you.”

Caleb blinked. When would he realize how much Molly cared?

“Oh,” whispered Caleb. “Molly, all of my wounds are physical. All I will need is rest. And you?” The way Caleb asked that question made Molly think he already knew the answer. So Molly decided to throw him a curveball.

“I'd be much better if I got a kiss.” He said with a playful grin.

Molly was rewarded by Caleb's bright blush. 

“I do not think I should be rewarding this behavior.” He mused with that tiny smile that Molly loved.

Molly giggled. “What kind of behavior? All I’m asking for is a kiss from my favorite wizard.”

“You’re terrible.”

Caleb turned to face Molly and kissed him. The kiss Caleb gave him was chaste and soft, a brief brush of chapped lips and a tickle of bristly beard hairs. It was brief, and Molly could smell Caleb's awful breath and stale sweat and blood, and it was perfect. That perfect kiss left Molly wanting more, but later. He could wait for later, when they were safe and perhaps in a nice, warm tavern.

Molly dropped his head to Caleb's shoulder. He slid his hands beneath Caleb's coat, starting at his wizard's belly and slipping delicately around Caleb's back. It felt so good to be able to touch him. They were both alive. Molly couldn't deny how lucky he’d been over the last few days in spite of all the absolute bullshit. The fingers of Caleb's hand came up to dance in the short curls as the base of Molly's head, and Molly's tail curled in delight. This was good. He could fall asleep like this.

But they were interrupted. He heard Yasha's heavy footfalls as she approached and reluctantly pushed away from Caleb.

“Yasha,” greeted Caleb. He seemed completely undisturbed by her presence. 

She sighed. “It's okay, Caleb, I already know.”

“What?” Caleb asked with a confused frown.

“You know.” Yasha gestured somewhat helplessly at them. “About you and-and Molly.”

Molly caught Caleb's bemused expression. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Yasha just knows everything about me. It was inevitable, really.”

“What?” Caleb asked again. “Oh, I don't...whatever, it's fine.” He turned his attention to Yasha. “Any news?”

“I'm supposed to open the big doors, so you have to move.”

“Oh,” groaned Molly as he rose to his feet. “And here I thought you came to check in on me.”

“I, Molly, it's just,” she stuttered. “I didn't think about, I mean, Caleb said he would he look after you, so I wasn't worried.”

“He did?” Molly asked.

“I did?” Caleb echoed. 

“Yeah.” She grabbed one of the doors and yanked it open with terrifying ease. “Two days ago when we first came back. I had to go to the storm, but I didn't want to leave, and you said you would look after him. But when I came back and he was alone, I got angry because I thought you left him, but Frumpkin was there, so I know you were still doing what you promised me.”

Molly felt an unbelievable warmth flood him. He remembered how bad of a day that started off as, how alone he'd felt, and how he had totally disregarded Frumpkin's presence in the room.

“Were you really keeping an eye on me, Mister Caleb?” Molly asked quietly. 

“Well,” began Caleb. He was blushing. “Not constantly. I would check in every few minutes and less frequently when it appeared you were asleep. I thought Frumpkin would help you feel less alone, but...I don't know. I did a bit of a shit job.”

Molly took hold of Caleb’s hand with both of his own. “I disagree. I told you to leave me, remember? I’m the one who made everything weird.”

Caleb just sighed. It was clear he didn’t agree.

“You should get ready to leave.” Yasha told them. “I think we’re leaving with Harald, Urzoth, and Leona.”

“Who?” Molly asked as he slowly rose to his feet. Caleb followed suit with a pained groan.

“Harald’s aunts. I think they’re leaving, and I think we’re going with them.” Yasha shrugged. “They tried to give us money, but Beau told them no. So I think we’re riding with them in their wagon.”

“Did they look like they could pay us?”

Yasha shook her head.

“Well,” said Molly. “Okay, then that makes perfect sense.”

Yasha nodded.

 

Not long after that, Molly watched Harald's aunts — one of them a burly half-orc woman — load the wagon with their few belongings. Yasha and Beau were helping the couple while Fjord and Jester harnessed the pair of oxen. Nott was scampering over the wagon, checking the ropes and ties that secured the tarp, while also checking up on Harald on occasion. The women didn’t seem to mind that she was a goblin and also seemed more than happy to let her mother their nephew. Molly and Caleb were exempt from physical labor because they were the most badly wounded. It was good. This all felt so familiar and nearly perfect to Molly. He knew the chaos that came with preparing for the road intimately wel,l and it was a good feeling to know they would be moving soon. Even better was putting all this behind him with Caleb at his side and a new, untraveled road laid out before the both of them.

It wasn't long before they were on the road, trundling down the unevenly packed dirt with clumps of overgrown weeds reaching greedily for the wheels. Molly was pressed up against one corner, surrounded by lumpy packs and wooden tool boxes that clattered with their contents, and Caleb sitting against his side with a book cracked open across his lap. Opposite him sat Jester and Harald, but he found himself ignoring them. His eyes were trailing over the side of Caleb's face and down his bloodstained coat, and then back again. He didn’t ask Caleb to sit beside him so he could curl up against his wizard, but he was sure Caleb made this decision for him. Molly remembered how cagey Caleb was yesterday at the tavern and knew the man wanted privacy. So, this was a very pleasant and very welcome surprise. The rocking of the wagon and Caleb’s warmth against his side and beneath his arm was lulling Molly to sleep, but he fought it off as best he could. Part of him was afraid to sleep. He didn't know what sort of dreams would plague him, not after still feeling a bit fuzzy in his skull. But it was a losing battle, especially when Caleb’s hand came down to play with Molly’s curls.

Eventually, Molly drifted off, his nose full of Caleb’s scent and surrounded by Caleb’s warmth and the sound of Caleb’s soft breaths and the rustle of Caleb’s book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We in the home stretch, baby!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Molly lie awake in the back of the wagon. It had to be close to midnight and he couldn't sleep. He was on edge, anxiety twisting in his gut with the remnants of the previous few days’ events. It had been much easier to ignore it during the day and surrounded by his friends as they made their way back out onto the road where they belonged. But now that it was quiet and he was alone that shadow at his back was trying to claw through him. He tried desperately to sleep. He was exhausted and his body was still twisted up with the pain from his numerous wounds. Jester and Yasha only had so much healing left in them, and Molly wasn’t the only one who was wounded. Certainly lying on the hard and splintered wooden bed of the wagon wasn't helping, but he really had no other options. What he wouldn't give for a fucking bed and a bottle of wine.

Yasha and Fjord were on watch, mostly keeping an eye on the oxen as Caleb’s hut could keep out any dangers. That left Molly, Caleb, the rest of their friends, and Harald and his aunts all crammed inside the wagon. Yet Molly still didn’t really feel safe. His mind kept casting him back to that void he’d become in the woods and to those big gaps in his memory when he was more animal than anything else.

However, still being squished up between the sacks and chests proved to be a good spot. Normally, Molly hated being enclosed like this. It felt too much like being in a grave; too much like being crushed. This time, though, was different. Caleb was directly across from him, bundled up in his coat and scarf so that he was only visible from the nose up. Molly was surprised when Caleb chose to return to this spot at the wagon after setting up his dome as well as the silver thread. Caleb must've been close to as paranoid as Molly felt, but was uncharacteristically unconcerned with who might've seen him choosing to stay the night beside Molly.

He was so close that all Molly had to do was lift his hand to touch him if he so desired. And Molly desired. He could picture himself brushing aside those strands of ginger hair, planting a kiss on the tip of that nose, and scooting closer so that he was pressed up fully against Caleb. Maybe he would dip his hand beneath Caleb's shirt or the hem of his pants. Maybe he would do that to hear Caleb's muffled gasps as he panted against Molly's mouth.

It was so much easier to play with that fantasy than to let his thoughts wander down the path of his own dread. But he didn't want to wake Caleb.

Caleb looked so cozy and warm nestled within all those layers. Molly watched him sleep, partly jealous, but mostly just admiring. He kept coming back to that nose where it poked out from above Caleb’s tattered scarf. He was sure Caleb was self-conscious about his nose, but Molly thought it was a good nose. It suited Caleb's face perfectly. It was proud and well-defined, the nose that belonged to a king or an emperor. The type of nose that looked excellent in profile on a marble bust that proudly proclaimed “King Caleb the Whatever-Number.” Now that was a thought: King Caleb Widogast. Molly could picture him sitting upon a throne in heavy furs with a crown upon his head. All would fear and respect the wizard-king of Zemni Fields. And maybe Molly was sitting beside him or curled up by his knees. Molly would be his consort dressed in a gown, and adorned with jewels and painted lips.

Molly filed that away for later use.

Caleb could be a king if he wanted. He could look the part, certainly. But now Caleb was just an adorable, sleepy wizard in a tattered, but warm coat and a scarf that has seen much use, but is hard to replace simply because of how worn and soft it's gotten over the years. And he was easily within Molly's reach.

Molly's heart was twisting in his chest. It was that good pain he felt whenever he looked at Caleb or heard him speak, but had first noticed it however many days ago he felt back in the bath when Caleb had come all over his stomach. Now that he could recognize the feeling he could remember every time he’d felt it in the past. And, holy shit, had that been a lot more than he realized.

Molly was desperate to touch. Especially now that he had spent all this time carefully examining Caleb's sleeping face. He just looked so peaceful and cozy; and Molly just felt awful and alone and a bit scared and he couldn't sleep. The only people who understood what was happening in his head were asleep or on watch. After some deliberation, Molly ever so carefully reached out to touch the very nearest strands of Caleb's auburn hair. It was wonderful. At least for a moment it was. Molly would have liked to enjoy that touch a bit more, but all it made him realize was that he wanted to _be_ touched. He wanted someone to hold him. That always helped when he wasn't feeling like himself and usually it was Yasha, but she was keeping watch with Fjord. And Molly really wanted Caleb to hold him.

He couldn't wake Caleb up. Molly remembered how Caleb was wincing with every movement and how he limped with a hand on the partially healed wound on his side. Maybe Yasha and Fjord wouldn't mind the distraction. Carefully, Molly pulled off the tattered blanket Leona had given him and rose to a sitting position.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb's voice was slurred with sleep. Of course he would wake up.

“Go back to sleep, love.” Molly whispered. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“What's wrong?” Caleb was fast at waking up (honestly they all were, built up from countless experiences on the potentially dangerous roads in the empire). Molly could see the faint flicker of Caleb's eyes and watched as the man tugged down his scarf to free his mouth.

“Nothing. Just can't sleep.”

“Your voice is tight.” Caleb sat up. “Are you sure you're alright? How does your head feel?”

“I’m fine.” Molly answered immediately. He could feel that smile on his own face.

“I can hear you smiling.” Caleb paused. “I saw you rip that osyluth…”

“The what?” Molly interrupted.

“The osyluth -- the bone devil -- I saw you rip its heart out. And you…” Caleb sighed. “I do not know what this thing can do. All I have are inferences, Mollymauk, and I have no real idea what kind of power that devil has.”

“It’s gone, though. That big rock is broken. How did that happen, by the way? No one’s told me.”

Caleb sighed once more. “I will tell you, but you have to answer my question first. And no, the devil is not gone. I just stopped it from coming into the Prime Material Plane from that gate. That is why I am worried.”

“So you _did_ stop it!”

“Mollymauk, please.”

Molly sighed. Caleb was worried, he had every right to be, and Molly honestly owed him the truth. No matter how uncomfortable it made him to speak it. He did want Caleb to know, not just Yasha, but that didn't make the telling any easier. Molly turned to face Caleb fully. They were only inches apart.

“I’m fine, well, maybe not _fine_ , but much better. I just...how can I explain this?” He paused, trying to marshal his thoughts. “It feels like my skull’s been hollowed out, I guess? Not...not really _hollow_ , but sort of like there used to be something there and it’s not anymore. It’s all back to normal, but it feels strange, like I forgot how that feels. I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

Caleb nodded. “Ja, that makes sense.”

“But I’m still all jittery.” Molly continued. He couldn’t stop now. “I keep thinking ‘what if it comes back?’ Or ‘what if it never really left?’ Or ‘how do I know these thoughts are mine?’ They feel like mine, this feels like me...but I’m still missing my jewelry, Caleb. They took my jewelry, and now I can’t find it, and now my horns feel all loose, and they’re the wrong weight. That probably sounds stupid.” He paused only to take a breath. “And what if I have nightmares again? Those were something terrible. And you know what else? I don’t even remember most of what happened yesterday. I don’t even know how we found you. I just remember...nothing. There’s this big patch of nothing and it’s been _years_ since I’ve had something like that happen to me.” He let out his breath in a big huff. “So I’m fine, really.”

Caleb snorted. “Well, you sound like you, and you look like you. Even without your jewelry and even with this new scar on your cheek.”

Molly smiled and this time it was real.

“Now,” whispered Molly. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and laying the flat of his palm against Caleb’s stomach. “Are you going to tell me about how smart and sexy you were?”

Caleb darkened.

“I don't,” muttered Caleb, “Know if I was sexy...I just. It was simple really. All I did was rewrite a portion of the spell equation.”

“I don't even know what that means, but it sure as hell sounds sexy to me. Tell me more.”

“I just.” Caleb cleared his throat. “Do you really want to hear about it?” Molly nodded eagerly. Caleb took a breath. “Well, okay. You know spells are similar to math equations, ja?”

“I do now.”

“Okay, well, spells are similar to math equations. There is a formula each spell follows depending upon its intending result. Some are more versatile than others and some are more difficult to read than others. Generally the more powerful the spell, or the older, the more complex the equation. Decay forced me to help him activate a series of stone circles that acted as spell foci around the woods. While I was enacting this ritual, the first time I examined the equation carefully and searched for a weak point. This spell was put together by someone who really knew what they were doing. I actually learned quite a bit by trying to pick it apart. The first time around, I could not find a weak point, but I did find something at the second ritual site. I found a way to rewrite a portion of the equation that was meant to draw arcane energies towards the gate in such a way that it would loop back around on itself. Essentially it would replay that one portion of the equation until it overloaded itself and torn itself apart. I just did not account for Decay's spell acting as a catalyst to set the whole thing off. My guess is that that singular, overloaded thread was highly reactive to spellcasting, and all of us casting spells in the area only served to set it all off quicker. My intention was not to rip everything apart like that, it was to perhaps cause one of the spell foci to overload and break. That is one way you can destroy a magic item, you see. They are only meant to contain a certain amount of magic and if you put too much inside with nowhere for it to go, then the item will break. I had hoped that that is what would happen, but the result was the same.”

Molly waited a moment for Caleb to continue before he spoke. His voice was a heated whisper. “And you did all that fancy magic stuff yourself?”

“I mean, it's not really fancy. It was pretty barbaric. If I had a bit more time, it would have been much more elegant.”

“Will you just take the compliment? It sure sounds fancy to me.”

Caleb huffed a quiet laugh. “Alright, Mollymauk.”

Molly dropped his forehead against Caleb’s and closed his eyes. His mind readily supplied a vivid picture of Caleb stealthily grabbing bits of glowing glyphs, swapping them with others, and replacing some with his own. All under the noses of those damned devils and that shit-head tiefling. Of course Caleb would be able to do something so clever. Molly wondered if Caleb was ever really in any danger; it sure seemed like Caleb was in the midst of escaping when Molly suddenly came to consciousness in that field. That was still pretty murky, but the sight of the morning sun igniting Caleb’s hair a brilliant copper was clear in his mind. Gods. Molly was fucked.

“Ahhm,” hummed Caleb. “Mollymauk?” Molly opened his eyes and made brief eye-contact with Caleb before those gorgeous eyes darted away. There was a blush high on Caleb’s cheeks. “Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?”

Molly sighed and closed his eyes once more. “Um...back when things were really bad, Yasha used to just hold me. Usually I’m better about dealing with nightmares these days, or, y’know, if I’m feeling shitty, but...you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. I know you…”

“Come on,” interrupted Caleb. He tugged off his scarf and coat, set aside his book holsters, and laid back down on the bed of the wagon.

Molly barely hesitated. He happily snuggled up along Caleb’s side. It took them some effort to get completely comfortable. Molly’s head was tucked up beneath Caleb’s chin, his horns cushioned against Caleb’s arm with that scarf, Caleb’s coat a pillow, and Molly’s tattered blanket drawn over the both of them. Caleb had his arm draped over Molly, his hand on Molly’s back. Molly couldn’t resist dipping his fingers into the open collar of Caleb’s shirt to play with the hairs on his chest.

“This okay?” Molly whispered.

Caleb hummed his assent. “Go to sleep.”

Molly exhaled a small laugh through his nose. This was good. Molly was warm and enveloped by Caleb’s old furs and smoke smell. He was already beginning to doze.

 

That night in the wagon would prove to be to only night Molly would have Caleb to himself. Molly couldn’t help but think that one night was a wasted opportunity. As it was, they never found themselves alone. Nott was clinging to Caleb and, interestingly to Molly, Fjord was keeping an eye on Caleb as well. Molly knew their relationship at some point had changed while Molly was gone, but it was still a bit of a surprise for Molly whenever he saw how his friends now behaved differently. And Jester never strayed too far from him or Beau. Not that Molly really minded, Jester was one of his favorite people. It was nice having another tiefling around, especially one who was such good company. But she wasn’t Caleb.

And then there was Harald.

He lingered somewhere near Molly throughout their journey when he wasn’t with his aunts, and often reached out for Molly’s hand. Molly wasn’t certain why Harald had taken to him so, but he wasn’t about to send Harald off. He felt at least partly responsible for Harald’s current state. Molly still wondered if Matilde wouldn’t have died if they had camped in the forest instead of going to her tavern, but what was the point of that? Shit was already done and Harald was the worse for it. The boy wasn’t nearly as talkative as he’d been the first time Molly met him. Molly did manage to draw a few words out of him by offering readings. He didn’t give Harald a real reading -- that felt cruel -- but fed the boy the bullshit that Molly normally spewed to blow smoke up people’s asses. Harald seemed to take some comfort in Molly’s interpretation of the deck at least.

Molly had to settle for Caleb’s glances across the campfire, Caleb’s secret smiles, and the surreptitious brush of Caleb’s fingers along Molly’s arm or the small of his back. It sent embers through Molly’s blood, but that heat had nowhere to go and just simmered in his body. He was all pent up every night, but could do nothing with it aside from wait and imagine everything he would do to Caleb when they were finally alone.

It felt good to be back on the road at least. And within a day, he was healthy enough to put his boots in the dust once more. He always felt most at home on the road. The ache in his muscles felt good in spite of his numerous injuries, and he was beginning to feel more and more like himself with each step. Molly hoped they’d never go into another forest again.

 

They stopped at a little roadside inn after several days of travel. Molly remembered this place. It was one of those taverns with a script painted on its sign that he had a difficult time reading. He remembered looking at that sign, scoffing at the text, and simply ignoring it. It was one of those places that was built large enough to accommodate soldiers with a large, flat common room with a built-in well in the center, and a second floor that was all tiny rooms with only a bed and a small crate that was serviceable as a table. Molly remembered the salty dwarven woman who owned the tavern and her husband who refused to speak with him or Jester or Fjord. Molly also remembered how absolutely trashed he and Nott had gotten on their exceptionally good mead, threw up in his and Fjord’s shared room, and then left a few gold coins on the bed as compensation.

When they stepped out of the wagon, Caleb whispered heatedly into Molly’s ear, “I would like to spend some time with you tonight.”

Molly felt heat roll down his spine and his face flush hot. The tips of Caleb’s fingers were running along the top of Molly’s tail and stopping warm against the small of his back. Before Molly could respond, Nott was pulling Caleb away into the inn. He shot Molly a wink from over his shoulder. Molly knew he was grinning like a fool, but it was exactly what he was, and he couldn't really bring himself to care who saw. He was downright floating into the inn, his eyes stuck on Caleb's back. Holy shit, this confident Caleb was maybe sexier than smartypants Caleb.

Caleb sat across from Molly at the large table by the hearth Jester picked. Nott had shoved her seat directly beside Caleb's so they would've been ass to ass if Nott wasn't a small goblin girl. Jester sat beside Molly, her tail occasionally coiling around his seemingly in reassurance. She didn’t seem to be healing as quickly as him, and so Molly happily twined his tail with hers whenever she sought his out. Yasha sat on his other side beside Beau, who Molly caught glancing between him and Caleb several times throughout the night. Of course she would figure it out. Fjord was their face this night, determined to communicate with these dwarves. He ordered food and drinks for the table: a hearty, rabbit stew with onions, parsnips, carrots, mushrooms, and garlic that was a good base for all the wine Molly was prepared to drink. Molly thought tonight must be the first night he felt like a queen from eating a simple stew and some black bread. Fjord also got rooms for everyone, including Harald and his aunts, and helped Molly make sure everyone (meaning, of course, Jester, Beau, and Nott) behaved.

This, of course, was an impossible task. Beau couldn't help but argue with the dwarven woman about every social issue that came up...not that Molly or Fjord tried to stop her. She was doing important work. But Beau was distracting enough that no one saw Jester painting dicks on the table, or when Nott snuck away only to reappear with a handful of sausages, dried apples, and honeycomb.

Not that Molly could pay attention to anything but Caleb. His wizard kept shooting him these _looks_ from across the table. Molly didn’t know Caleb knew how to smolder like that, but, girl, was that a pleasant surprise. He wondered what other sexy secrets Caleb was keeping from him. Molly practically jumped out of his seat when he felt Caleb’s boot press against his calf. He even forgot about his wine.

So Molly was thankful when his friends finally began to trickle to their rooms. He was especially thankful to Beau, who took Nott with her as she left and gave a wink and a thumbs-up. He promised to share the rest of his skein with her when they got back to Zadash.

Molly leaned across the table to Caleb when they were finally alone, nearly knocking over his glass of wine.

“Mister Caleb,” he purred.

“Mister Mollymauk.” Caleb replied. He was leaning back in his chair in an imitation of Molly’s typically casual sitting position. “Something seems to…”

“Okay, I like the coy. I really do, but I’ve been hard for _days_.”

Caleb suppressed a laugh and rose from his seat. Molly followed him eagerly, nearly knocking his chair over in his hurry to follow Caleb across the common room and up the stairs to his wizard’s room. He was on top of Caleb as soon as the door was closed and locked, putting his mouth and his hands anywhere he could reach. Caleb tugged Molly against him, wrapped his arms around Molly’s waist beneath that colorful coat, and ran his tongue, gasping, over Molly’s pointed fangs. Molly let his fang glide over Caleb’s tongue and delighted in the shivers that simple motion elicited. He nipped at Caleb’s lips as he tugged Caleb’s scarf open before trailing down to nibble along his wizard’s prickly jaw and soft throat.

“I'm very curious to know what you have planned for me, Mister Caleb.” Molly hummed against the junction between Caleb’s neck and shoulder.

Caleb pushed Molly back toward the bed, Molly shedding his coat along the way. With a delighted sigh, Molly dropped back against the bed and his tail thumped excitedly against the thin blankets. Caleb dropped down between Molly’s legs. His hands smoothed skillfully along Molly’s thighs and gently kneaded with the pads of his fingers. Molly unashamedly groaned and rolled his hips when those hands came up close to his quickly hardening cock.

“Well,” began Caleb. He slid his hands down Molly’s thighs and began undoing the laces of Molly’s boots. “Actually, um, I would like to talk. I do not mean to put a-a damper on anything, but I think it's important.”

Molly's tail twitched nervously. “Ah...that's, I mean, okay. What did you want to talk about?”

“I just -- don't be nervous -- I think that if we both want to continue this, this thing...um, that is a good place to start, actually. Do you want to keep doing this?”

“I mean, I'm here aren't I?”

Caleb frowned. “ _Ja_ , okay, fine. But beyond right now? Do you want to continue to pursue this, this _thing_ , whatever this is?”

“Absolutely.” Molly said without hesitation. How could he not? He couldn't imagine a moment when he would not want that.

“Okay, good.” Caleb nodded. He peeled back Molly’s boots and carefully set them aside.

“I like this,” continued Molly. He was enjoying the show Caleb was putting on for him, how reverently Caleb was removing Molly’s outrageous boots, even in spite of the too-serious for his tastes conversation they were having. “I like having this -- having you, um, having you to myself. I like being here, in this room with you, just the two of us. I like having sex with you. I think you’re handsome, and you’re smart, and…” His mouth was running away from him. He stopped to take a breath. “I definitely do want to keep doing this. No question.” He dropped his hands down to Caleb’s when they returned to his thighs. “So, let’s keep doing this, yeah?”

Caleb nodded once more. “Ja, let’s keep doing this.”

“Great!” Molly smiled brightly. That was easy.

He pulled Caleb closer to him by the wizard’s hands and slid to the edge of the bed so that he was practically in Caleb’s lap. Caleb’s face darkened noticeably.

“Now,” purred Molly. “You must’ve had something else in mind for us. I’m curious to know what that is.”

Caleb cleared his throat. “Ahm, well...first, I wanted you to kiss me.”

“Easy.” Molly pecked Caleb on the lips.

Caleb huffed, but he was smiling. “I thought you had lost all patience with coy.”

“You said you wanted me to kiss you. If you want something different, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I meant...I meant I wanted to, for you to kiss me, but with your mouth and your tongue.”

Molly hummed. He obliged Caleb, leaning in with an open mouth. Caleb eagerly met him halfway and drew Molly’s forked tongue into his own mouth. It was too short. Caleb pulled away before Molly could really get into that kiss. Molly growled in mild frustration, but Caleb nipped on his lower lip seemingly in an apology.

“There is one more thing.” Caleb said. “Maybe two, actually. This thing between us.”

“Yeah?” Molly’s tail was losing its mind. It was twitching and twisting on the bed. He didn’t know why this was making him so nervous. Caleb was right. This was an important conversation to have, but the thought of it was making his heart hammer (or was that from the kissing?) and his stomach twist in knots (also from the kissing?). Why couldn’t they just get to the sex already? He had a feeling where this was going, knew what Caleb wanted, and that would certainly get Molly what _he_ wanted faster. “Are you worried about them finding out? We don’t have to tell them. Let’s just keep this between us, right? This can be our thing. We’re secret lovers, remember?”

Caleb frowned. “Is that how you would imagine this going?”

“I mean, yeah.” He didn’t want to scare Caleb off. “This is ours.” He had to keep Caleb around. He had to make sure Caleb was comfortable. “We don’t -- I don’t want to share.”

Caleb was searching his face. Molly was finding it hard to keep eye contact with the wizard, but he knew how to place his gaze somewhere off to the side. It worked with humans fairly well. They could never tell where he was looking.

Finally, Caleb spoke, “You know, I don’t actually mind if they know. I just am more worried about the attention, honestly. Jester is a terror and Nott would have a heart attack. I just...I want to be clear -- I am not embarrassed about this or anything, and you do not have to sacrifice anything for my sake in that regard.” He paused. “What are expecting from this?”

“Nothing.” Molly’s response was immediate. Perhaps a bit too immediate.

Caleb’s frown deepened. Molly slapped a smile across his face.

“Really,” continued Molly. “I'll take whatever you-whatever you want to give me. Nothing more. No pressure, this is all just-just super casual friends who fuck sometimes. Maybe friends who fuck a lot, if that's what you want. _Especially_ if that’s what you want. Really, I'm happy with anything. We could end this after tonight and that would be fine. We could even…” Molly had to take a steadying breath. “We could even stop right now and that would be fine. No strings attached.”

“Well,” said Caleb after a pause. “Okay. No strings attached.”

“Yes. Now can we get back to the sex? You've been teasing me all night.”

Caleb huffed, a tentative smile on his face. Molly’s tail was flicking playfully through the air. This was much easier than talking, flirting with Caleb.

Molly caught Caleb’s eyes flitting to his tail, occasionally tracking the movement before returning to Molly’s face. Molly grinned.

“What’s got you so distracted, Mister Caleb?”

Caleb cleared his throat. “Um, well,” he stammered as he gestured uselessly at Molly’s tail. “Ah, your tail. It’s…something. I am curious.”

“Don’t be shy.” Molly giggled. “It’s just us in here.”

“I just...it’s that,” he sighed. “Okay. Your tail? I must admit that I have often considered touching it or holding it in my hands or...well.” He was bright red. “This is, perhaps, a strange request...er, rather, a thought. Would it be possible to masturbate with it?”

Molly’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped his throat. That was certainly a surprise! He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Caleb frowned and looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“Nevermind,” he muttered. “It is ridiculous.”

“No, no!” Molly giggled. He took a firm hold of both of Caleb’s hands for fear he would flee. “No, Caleb. It just surprised me, that’s all! I swear!” He took a moment to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh like that. You know I never once considered that?” He slid back on the bed. “Come here and sit next to me. I want to hear all about this idea your sexy brain has cooked up.”

Caleb took a moment to obey. He was staring sheepishly down at his hands as he shuffled onto the bed and into Molly’s space.

“Caleb,” said Molly gently when his wizard didn’t speak. “Do you want to share this with me?”

“Um, I don’t know.” His eyes kept darting to Molly’s tail. He shrugged. “I do, but I am...I am nervous about what you might think.”

“Love, I am always open to trying new things and I can promise I will not judge you for erotizicisng my tail. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Caleb huffed. “Okay. Well, I thought...I have imagined you using your tail or, perhaps, me using it.”

“To do what?” Molly’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

“Either fucking yourself with it, or me, or I was thinking to jerk yourself off with it, or, um, me.”

Molly hummed in thought.

“Well,” he hummed. “I don’t really have much control over it. It just sort of does what it wants. If I try to move it, I can move it a bit, but I can’t pick things up with it or hold things or wrap it up. It’s more like a cat’s tail and less like a monkey’s tail.”

“Can I touch it?” Caleb asked, interrupting his trail of words. Molly smiled.

“Of course, love.”

Caleb’s hands both wrapped carefully around the middle of Molly’s tail. The calloused pads of his fingers traced up and down the sinuous length, bumping curiously over the knobby bones and encircling it completely where it narrowed down near the bladed point. Molly shivered when those fingers trailed back up and brushed along the sensitive flesh just at the base near his ass.

“You know,” breathed Molly. “I think this is something we can make happen.”

Caleb’s eyes darted to his, those blue eyes blown black and stormy with lust. His wizard’s fingers kept traveling up and down the length of Molly’s twitching tail.

“There’s a vial,” began Molly.

“In your coat.” Caleb finished for him. He was already up and crossing the room to where Molly’s coat was tossed across the back of the chair. It only took him a moment to produce Molly’s vial of lube. Of course Caleb would know precisely where Molly kept it.

Molly propped his foot up against Caleb’s stomach as the man began to climb over him.

“Hold a moment, love.” He tutted. “I think we’re both still a bit overdressed.”

Caleb impatiently tossed the vial on the bed. Molly giggled. Perhaps Caleb had been thinking about this far more than Molly originally thought. He climbed on top of Molly, his hands coming up to tug at Molly’s flowy shirt. Molly giggled as he helped Caleb undress him. Soon, he was completely naked beneath Caleb and pulling him down on top of him for a deep kiss. He didn’t even mind that he was nude and Caleb was still dressed -- it felt a bit filthier in the best way. It felt like Molly was there for Caleb’s pleasure and Molly couldn’t -- nor did he want to -- deny that it was making him impossibly harder. Molly was delighted when Caleb shed his scarf, his coat, and his book holsters. He slipped his fingers up beneath Caleb’s stained shirt, but Caleb stopped him.

“Um, if,” murmured Caleb bashfully, “You do not mind, I would like to keep my shirt on?”

“Of course.” Molly gently replied. There was that ugly thing again, that thing Molly had no name for that hurting Caleb in a way Molly wasn’t familiar with. “Whatever makes you comfortable. I do not mind at all.”

“Thank you.” Caleb muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Remember how I said this is supposed to be fun?” Molly’s fingers danced along Caleb’s belt. “Is this okay?”

“Well, I need my dick out for this, do I not?”

Molly snorted a laugh. He helped Caleb out of his pants, looking up several times to check on Caleb as he did so. Caleb climbed on top of him and once more captured Molly’s mouth with his. He let his weight drop completely on top of Molly, who moaned appreciatively as Caleb’s cock brushed against his. Molly rolled his hips against Caleb’s. It only took a moment to coax Caleb into moving with him and then they were grinding against each other and it was wonderful. Molly wanted more. But then Caleb pulled away and Molly whined at the loss.

“Molly,” gasped Caleb. He hovered over Molly, panting, and with lips shiny and red from kisses and nips. “How…?”

Molly pulled his tail up from where it was writhing beside him on the bed.

“It might slap you,” warned Molly breathlessly. “Maybe don’t pull too hard on it? That’s not a good pain for me. It’s fairly flexible, so you could probably coil it up.”

“Will you tell if you do not like it?”

“Of course I will.”

Caleb sat up, straddled Molly’s upper thighs, and wasted no time grabbing hold of Molly’s tail. He took a generous length of Molly’s tail, leaving several feet of slack, so that he wouldn’t tug too hard. Molly hummed and rolled his hips as Caleb lubed up Molly’s tail and then carefully curled a section into a loop around his cock. Caleb groaned. He held the coiled length of Molly’s slicked up tail between both hands as he slowly began to thrust against the muscle and bone.

Fuck, this was hot. Molly watched the red, swollen and slick head of Caleb’s cock as it slid in and out of his looped tail. He watched Caleb’s face, how his eyes were locked on where his own cock was constricted by Molly’s tail; how his skin was flushed red down across his throat and where it disappeared beneath his shirt; and how his mouth hung open as he gasped for air. Caleb was thoroughly enjoying himself. And Molly loved this. He didn't think he would, at least not as much as he did, but it was so good to watch Caleb just use him like this. Molly was painfully hard, aching to be touched. He wrapped a hand around his own cock, gasping, and begun to tug. Caleb's eyes darted to Molly's hand and he growled.

His wizard didn't last much longer after that. With a strangled cry, he came, releasing in the tunnel of Molly's looped tail and shooting stripes up along Molly's fingers and cock.

“Fuck,” growled Molly.

Caleb pitched forward, hands on either side of Molly's head, and crushed his mouth against Molly's. Molly growled into the kiss and tugged Caleb down against him by the hips to grind his own still-hard length against Caleb's hip-bone. Caleb groaned into Molly's mouth.

“I want to taste it,” hissed Caleb, lips still pressed desperately to Molly's. His fingers traced delicately, teasingly over Molly’s twitching dick.

Molly giggled. “Well, don't let me stop you, love.”

Caleb rained kisses down Molly’s face and neck, and across his flushed chest and stomach as he slipped down Molly’s body. Molly’s tail unraveled from around Caleb of its own accord, flopping to the side where it twitched and curled with Molly’s arousal. His legs fell apart for Caleb and he rolled his hips impatiently.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb settled down between Molly’s thighs, hooking an arm beneath one of Molly’s legs and throwing the leg over his shoulder. Molly sighed shakily at Caleb’s tongue swiping tentatively along the underside of his cock, and his hips jerked when that tongue flicked against the head. Caleb stroked him then took him into his mouth. Molly gasped as that velvet heat enveloped him. He didn’t mind that Caleb was either out of practice or inexperienced, that those teeth occasionally scraped against his skin. He liked that bit of pain, loved that stark contrast to the pleasure Caleb was giving him. Molly tangled his fingers in Caleb’s ginger hair, not pulling, but he needed something to grab onto, something to ground him. Caleb was fantastic. Maybe it wasn’t the best blowjob Molly had ever gotten, but this certainly was the first time someone fucked his tail and then sucked him off. And it was the first blowjob from Caleb. That just made it better. He loved the clumsy and yet attentive way Caleb was slurping on his cock. Molly could practically feel Caleb trying to tease out reactions from him and filing them away, cataloguing each gasp and twitch for later reference. Molly could feel his orgasm flooding through him, suddenly yanked to dizzying heights as that pleasure pooled in his gut, and lanced down his spine, and then was released down Caleb’s throat. Caleb popped off of him, sputtering and coughing.

“Shit,” gasped Molly. “Sorry.” Caleb shook his head and reached up wipe the cum from his face, but Molly stopped him. “Wait. Let me.”

Caleb cocked an eyebrow at him. Molly grinned wickedly and tugged him up toward him. Caleb went willingly. Molly kissed Caleb, full and open-mouthed, laving his forked tongue as deep as he could reach into Caleb’s mouth. He groaned threatrically as he tasted himself on Caleb’s mouth and cleaned Caleb’s beard of his own spend.

“You are filthy,” breathed Caleb with a shiver.

“Am I?” Molly’s tail coiled up along Caleb’s lower back. He grinned triumphantly as Caleb arched against the sinuous length of muscle. “So that was fun.”

Caleb dropped his forehead against Molly’s, eyes closed, and nodded.

“I think we could explore that a bit more at some point.” He wrapped his arms around Caleb, unmindful at the moment of the sticky cum drying on his stomach and tail. “I’m curious to know what other surprises are waiting for me in that brain. Anything to do with my horns or fangs?”

Caleb buried his face in Molly’s neck and hummed. “It feels wrong,” he grumbled.

“What does?” Molly asked tentatively, feeling himself tense.

It took Caleb a moment to answer, and when he did his words were carefully selected. “Fetishizing those parts of you that make you a tiefling.”

Molly didn’t have a response for that.

“Mollymauk,” continued Caleb. “I do like these other parts of you. They are different from mine and I’m curious. I just...I should tell you that I would absolutely still fuck you if you didn’t have a tail or horns or, um, fangs. It’s just, I mean, well, they are a part of you that I like. But I do not want to do this with you because you are tiefling. That does not matter to me.”

Molly hummed. His heart was warm in chest. It felt like it was about to explode. He tightened his grip around Caleb and planted a kiss to his wizard’s temple.

“If it’s any consolation,” whispered Molly. “I _really_ like your cute, round little ears. They remind me of a newborn kitten or a puppy, all curled up against their heads and not quite pointy yet. You know what I mean?”

Caleb chuckled.

“I really don’t mind, Caleb.” Molly pressed another kiss to Caleb’s temple. “It’s you. If you were a stranger, I’d probably be pissed, but I know you. I feel like I know you pretty well. You wouldn’t just be using me for my parts. And I don’t think you would just start this thing with me unless you really wanted to, and I really don’t think it would have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been thinking about how sexy my tail is.”

Caleb sighed. They both lapsed into silence. Molly just enjoyed the warm weight of Caleb on top of him, of feeling Caleb's breath brushing against his neck, and of the smell of sweat and sex and Caleb lingering around him. The stickiness on his stomach and tail was beginning to get uncomfortable, but Molly still whined when Caleb peeled himself off to clean them both up with a cloth dampened with a waterskin.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb asked him as he sat at the edge of the bed. “Would you stay?”

“Of course, love.” Molly smiled up at him. “I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a cuddler.”

Caleb silently slid against him and willingly went where Molly tugged him into an embrace.

“Um, Mollymauk? There is one more thing.” Caleb paused. “I have been thinking about this...when we get back to Zadash, I would like to take you out into the city. I want to spoil you. I know it is not normally what a casual, sex-friend relationship would be like, but I want to do it.”

Molly blinked at Caleb. He had to swallow back the swelling of heart. The idea of Caleb wanting to do something - anything - nice for him was twisting up his insides in knots.

“That,” whispered Molly. “Sounds great, Caleb. I would love that. And who cares about normal, anyway? Neither of us is normal”

Caleb smiled. Gods. Molly loved Caleb's smiles. They were such shy and fragile things. Molly wanted to take each memory of them and hold them in his hands, and show everyone he met how precious those rare smiles were.

Gods. Mollymauk Tealeaf was fucked.

 

Caleb sat awake watching Molly sleep. He was curled atop Caleb, his head tucked under Caleb's chin, tail twisted around Caleb’s leg, and his warm weight pressing Caleb into the bed. Caleb carded his fingers through Molly's dark curls. He wondered how he had ever gotten himself so hopelessly tangled up in a mess like this. Why did he think this would have turned out any different? Why did he think Molly would want this any different?


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mar and Code for beta-ing this chapter. And thanks to all of you for being so patient.

Molly never thought he'd be grateful to be back in Zadash. The city was still just as filthy as when they left, the Crownsguard still fixing them with icy stares (Caleb kept Frumpkin bundled up in his arms), and the press of bodies still a stifling heat. There was a general air of dread and anxiety in the city. It was tense, lacking the liveliness of places like Hupperdook. And yet, Molly was glad to be back. As much as he belonged on the road, he belonged just as much in cities. Forests and woodlands weren't for him, recent events having made that even more obvious, and he really did enjoy the company of people far more than animals. 

It was good to be back in civilization.

The journey back had been peaceful. The week on the road was void of bandits and highwaymen, replaced instead with soldiers on foot and on horseback. Molly had a general distaste for people like these. People who made a profession out of murder. Sure, he did much the same, but he wasn't party to the trauma wars caused. His form of destruction was on an individual basis; one-to-one. It surely wasn't equivalent to the large scale slaughter of war.

He'd never witnessed war himself, but he’d heard stories. He’d heard about people leaving and not coming home, or coming home different. He’d heard about people bogged down in mud and soaked with their own blood, of people drowning in their armor, of people being completely obliterated at the whim of a spellcaster, and of how the screams of dying horses were somehow worse than the screams of dying people. He’d also heard about how some soldiers treated civilians worse than their enemies. Molly hated misery and, from what he knew, war was absolute misery. 

And he knew what conscription was.

He always made himself scarce when the soldiers turned up. As a consequence, that meant he was often hiding in the wagon alongside Caleb. Caleb, who seemed to distrust the soldiers as much as him, always greeted him with an anxious smile. Molly treasured the moment when Caleb would grab his hand when it was offered. That trust was precious. And so Molly kept to himself all the reasons why he thought Caleb hid from the soldiers. Molly figured his wizard was far more familiar with war than any of them.

Zadash’s skyline was a jagged crown. Crownsguard, merchants, and all manner of travelers were swarming around the outskirts, just beyond the massive wall that coiled around the city. Molly and the rest of the Mighty Nein kept close to Harald and his aunts as they slowly made their way up the main road to the central gate. Harald often reached for Molly's hand when the press of bodies became too much, and Molly happily obliged him. Fjord and Beau skillfully bullshitted them all past any Crownsguard that came around to check their wagon. Molly wondered how little these people must care if they truly believed they were all farmers.

It took them most of the day to finally arrive at the gate. Another hour passed as their goods were looked over, and again Beau and Fjord fed the Crownsguard the lines about them being simple farms. The Crownsguard gave them dubious looks, but let them into the city.

They parted ways with Harald, Leona, and Urzoth on the other side of the gate. Molly hid a pouch of fifty gold in the back of the wagon amongst the sacks and blankets. Harald wrapped Molly up in a lingering hug as they all said their farewells. Leona and Urzoth thanked the Mighty Nein profusely, but had little to offer in the way of parting gifts. Molly assured them that he and his companions needed no gifts. But they insisted. The Mighty Nein parted ways with the small family, a new drinking horn and a fishing rod added to their collection. 

Caleb walked beside Molly as they made their way through the crowded, dusty, filthy streets of Zadash to the Evening Nip. Molly tried not to stare at Caleb, to not be entranced by the way the setting sun would light him up copper and bronze, and to not instinctively grasp Caleb’s hand whenever their fingers brushed together. He could swear Caleb was doing that on purpose, if the looks Caleb was shooting him were any indication.

Street lanterns were being lit when they arrived at the Evening nip, chasing away the slowly gathering darkness. Molly took a deep breath as they all slowed to a stop outside. He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to go inside. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with that -- with Cree. It was too anxiety-inducing. He absolutely dreaded the possibility of her awakening some memory in him. Of her resurrecting that  _ other person _ that was here before him. Her sad expression made him feel far too guilty, because of fucking course it did.

“Oh, man,” growled Beau. “I can’t wait to give this asshole a piece of my fist.”

Fjord patted the air. “Let’s try to keep it cool. I’d love to tear into him, but remember what could happen if it turns sour. I’ll handle the talkin’, alright? I mean it.  _ I’ll handle the talkin’. _ Y’all just look pissed, okay?”

Beau groaned. “Okay,  _ dad. _ ”

“If you change your mind,” whispered Nott, letting her voice trail off as she moved aside her long coat to reveal the grip of the stolen firearm tucked into her cloth-wrap belt.

Fjord sighed.

“Molly, are you coming?” Jester asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“He’s going to help me with something.” Caleb answered for him.

Nott narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

Fjord raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He sounded somewhat surprised.

“Ja,” said Caleb. “We will meet you back at, where?”

“The Pillow Trove!” Jester shouted excitedly.

“We will meet you back at the Pillow Trove.”

And with that, Caleb turned and shuffled back the way they had come. Molly shrugged at the rest of the group and followed.

“What do you have planned, Mister Caleb?” Molly asked.

“Do you not remember?” Caleb crooked an eyebrow at him. He took Molly’s hand. “I wanted to spoil you.”

Molly blinked. Then realization dawned on him.

“Oh!” Molly exclaimed. He could feel his cheeks heating up. “You mean now, huh?”

Caleb nodded. “Ja, it is perfect. It is just us, and it is evening, and...this is okay?”

“Of course!” Molly laughed, quick to brush away Caleb’s sudden surge of self-doubt. “This is a lovely surprise, Mister Caleb. Spoil me.”

Caleb chuckled. Molly let Caleb lead him through the crowded, winding streets to the Pentamarket. Not once did he release Molly’s hand. Molly couldn’t stop the grin on his face and revelled in the frantic fluttering of his heart.

“What would you like to do?” Caleb asked him.

Molly frowned at him. “Me?”

“This is for you, Mollymauk. Tonight, I’m going to give you anything you want.”

“I want to kiss you.” Molly blurted.

Caleb smiled at him softly and slowed to a stop by the side of the street beneath a lantern. Molly leaned up and kissed him. He lingered perhaps a bit too long, but he was having Nine Hells of a time convincing himself to pull away. Caleb’s lips were warm, a bit rough, his beard scratchy in the most perfect way, and that smell of honey, smoke, and male sweat hung in Molly’s nostrils. He wanted more. Gods, did he want more. Caleb was the one to pull away, but Molly chased him.

“We can do more of that later, ja?” Caleb chuckled.

“I thought,” teased Molly. “That you were going to give me anything I wanted tonight.”

“Okay, but there is a practical side to this.”

“Relax, love, I’m teasing you.” He pecked Caleb on the lips once more, for good measure. “How about a bath? Dinner? I want to see that tavern with the stage shows. What is it called? The Lodge at the Eclipse? Maybe we could go to the Pillow Trove, avoid everyone, get a room to ourselves? Because I think you’re really sexy right now, and I can only imagine that improving the later it gets.”

Caleb went red and quickly turned to continue walking down the street. Molly happily followed, Caleb’s roughened hand still in his. He couldn’t help running his thumb over the back of Caleb’s knuckles.

“What about your horns?” Caleb was leading him toward the stalls and shop fronts of the Pentamarket.

“What?” Molly shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no. No, no! You are not buying me jewelry.”

Caleb laughed. It was wonderful. Quiet and breathy. Barely there. Molly noticed it because he was always looking for that small, fragile laugh. His heart did that little, almost painful twist that he didn’t know how to categorize.

“I could help you pick?” Caleb asked carefully. “I am not Jester, but...I think, I think I could give some input.”

Molly hummed thoughtfully. “I think I may be able to make use of your critical eye.”

They wove their way through the crowd, past several stalls in the midst of final sales and closing duties. Molly stopped at a jewelry store that he knew employed a tiefling jeweler. He and Jester had found it months and months ago -- over a year, really, now that he actually thought about it -- back when they had first come to Zadash. The door jingled merrily as they entered. Molly was immediately greeted with the smell of carefully perfumed air and floral tea. The shop was as well-lit and colorful as he remembered, the lantern light sparkling off the glittering arrays of jewelry in display cases and on stands and busts.

“Good evening!” The half-elven shopkeeper greeted them with a smile. They were dark-skinned; their auburn hair tied up in plaits and braids, and their temples shaved with small, elven designs cut into the buzzed hair. Their golden eyes glinted merrily in the lantern light. To their credit, there was barely a twitch on their face when they caught sight of Caleb. “What can I do for you fine folk this evening?”

Molly smiled brightly at the shopkeep. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember their name. He reluctantly released Caleb’s hand as he approached the counter.

“Good evening, indeed,” he said easily as he dropped his hands on the counter. Caleb was lingering behind him stiffly, hands in the pockets of his coat. “I was hoping I could find some adornments for my horns. I remember how well I was treated here last time, and this was the first place I thought of.”

“Of course,” they answered with a smile. Then they turned suddenly to the back of the shop and screeched, “Gentle!”

Caleb flinched. Molly looked back at him and grinned. He may not have remembered the half-elf’s name, but he remembered how swimmingly they got along with their partner.

“What!” The shouted reply echoed through the shop.

“Customers!”

There was clatter, the screeching of a chair on wood, and the clomping of hooves. The door behind the counter swung open with a dramatic bang that shook the wall.

“I don’t know why you have to  _ fucking  _ shout all the time!” The tiefling growled at the shopkeep. He was burly, heavily adorned with colorful tattoos on pale, pink skin, and his white hair shorn beneath his coiling horns. A septum piercing glittered in his nose.

The half-elf scowled at him. “There's  _ customers _ . We aren't closed yet.”

The tiefling snorted and finally turned to address Molly and Caleb. He blinked in surprise. 

“No shit.” He stepped around the counter. “Mollymauk Tealeaf?”

Caleb's head snapped to Molly, torn away from his careful examination of the jewels in the display case. Molly just returned his look with a shrug before he returned his attention to Gentle with a smile.

“That's Molly to my friends.” He said breezily. 

Gentle laughed. “You fucking asshole!” He slapped a massive paw across Molly's shoulder, nearly driving him into the ground. “It's been a whole fucking year, and you just stroll in here like no time has passed.”

“I'm surprised you remember me, actually.”

“You're fucking purple.” Gentle stepped back around the counter. “I have your piece. It's been ready for months. Jester told me you got into some kinda scrape, that you'd be back one day. Whatever it was, must've been some kind of shit.” His eyes flicked to the angry scar that stretched across Molly's sternum. Gentle pulled a small, wooden case from beneath the counter and placed it delicately between them.

Caleb stepped beside Molly.

“What is it?” He asked.

Molly shrugged. “Can't remember.” He turned to Gentle. “It really was some kind of shit.”

“This'll be quite the fucking surprise then.” Gentle said with a massive grin. He flicked open the wooden case and spun it around.

There, resting on a bed of black velvet, was a coiled serpent. It was wrought in copper, each scale lovingly rendered in green jade, the eyes a brilliant, peacock blue. The serpent was twisting around itself in a loose coil that had a slight bend to its movement. It was delicate, but deadly, sinuous, and nearly alive with the flickering lantern light dancing across its surface. Molly was so entranced with this beautiful piece of art that he hardly noticed Caleb removing the slip of paper behind it.

“What?” whispered Molly.

“It goes around that loop you got in your horn.” Gentle told him. “You twist it around that skinny bit.”

Molly carefully took the piece in his hand. He looked in the mirror Gentle provided as he took the time to slowly wind the serpent around the thinner section of his horn that had a hole pierced through it. Molly grinned widely as he eyed himself in the mirror, at the way the serpent sat coiled protectively around his horn. He could imagine how gorgeous it would look set beside the rings and chains he normally dangled from that loop. It was perfect. He was going to base his whole new set of jewelry around this snake.

“It’s so lovely!” Molly said with genuine delight. Gentle beamed at him.

Molly tilted his head, watching the light play off the polished copper chasings around the jade. It was the perfect size for his horn. It really could be his only adornment; the snake in peacock colors really was everything he needed. Molly was sure to turn heads with this single, gleaming bit of art. He was just about to ask Caleb what he thought of it when he was interrupted by the clinking of coins.

“Hey!” Molly protested. “Caleb, I told you.”

“I must not have heard.”

Molly was absolutely sidelined by the sudden and strange emotion that was boiling inside him. Caleb smiled his small, barely-there smile at Molly. That wasn’t fair. That smile was a cheap shot. How could Molly do any sort of protesting when his heart was so big in chest?

“Thank you, Mister Caleb.” Molly's voice had gone soft without his consent. “That was very kind of you.”

  


* * *

  


“You really didn’t have to do that.” Molly said quietly. They had been walking in silence for a few minutes, making their way through the nighttime crowds and closed stalls toward the Lodge at the Eclipse.

“I wanted to,” Caleb told him. His hands were stuffed in his coat. Molly wanted to feel those hands in his again but didn’t press; he didn’t want to make Caleb uncomfortable. “When you-” he continued. “Ah, when we were in those- those woods and how rough that was on you- and, um, on all of us. And. I just think you deserve it. I remember what you said to all of us in the barn, about how you do not want us to, um, to coddle you. So if-”

“We’re splitting the bill from now on.” Molly interrupted. “Not that I am not grateful for this gift.” He gestured to the snake wrapped around his horn. “It was a lovely thing for you to do. Thank you. I’ll try to find some way to repay it.”

“You do not-” whispered Caleb.

“I will,” interrupted Molly once more, with a smile. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. But for now, you’re not paying for anything for me. When we get to the inn, we’re splitting the bill.” He nudged Caleb’s shoulder playfully. “Okay, love?”

“Okay, Mollymauk.” There was that small smile again. Caleb had to be doing that on purpose.

They continued in companionable silence. Zadash had gone pleasantly cool with the setting of the sun, and the night-time crowds were out in full. The Lodge at the Eclipse wasn't too far from the central square in the Pentamarket -- only a few streets over -- though it took them some time to finally arrive. It was such a fantastic evening that neither Molly nor Caleb were in any hurry, and they didn’t really bother to dodge the crowds. Molly followed the flow of the crowd with practiced ease, Caleb just beside him. They passed bustling inns and quickly filling taverns on their path to the Lodge of the Eclipse. Molly caught the scattered scents of roasting, spiced meats and pies, the fruity and bitter smells of all the different beers sold in Zadash, and the heady aroma of spilled wine. Music was flooding out into the streets past the shouting cityfolk and annoyed Crownsguard. This was lovely. Molly could scarcely remember a more beautiful night. And he had Caleb with him. Molly's tail was swishing contentedly behind him, often brushing against Caleb's calf or ankle.

When finally they rounded the corner to their destination, Molly gasped in delight and grinned at Caleb. Music and color and lights were igniting the building that must be the Lodge. He all but ran down the street.

“Molly!” Caleb shouted. He cursed in Zemnian, but Molly only laughed.

“Come on, Caleb! Keep up!”

The Lodge was a modestly sized tavern, but impressive in its rustic architecture. A two-story, stone and timber construction with a tiled roof, the Lodge proudly declared its name on a large, colorful banner stretched across its open upper balcony, where a crowd of revelers were clustered around the tables. It was lit joyously with an assortment of lanterns - iron and glass affixed firmly to exterior walls, and colorful paper dangling from dyed, cotton ropes. The jaunty music flowing out from the Lodge's open doors and windows promised an exciting night. Molly bounced up the stone steps beneath the balcony to the open oaken doors, only slowing for a moment to wait for Caleb to catch up. Together, they stepped inside the crowded Lodge.

It was significantly warmer inside the tavern than outside. Lanterns and candles lit the interior in a warm, orange glow. To one side, a bar was built against the wall, the open archway to the kitchen clearly visible. A surly looking dragonborn barkeep was angrily arguing with a drunken dwarf, both of them gesticulating wildly to the amusement of the dwarf's companions. Scratched and worn tables were scattered across the room with no clear order, until Molly took a moment to watch the dozen or so servers as they skillfully wove their way across the crowded room. Nearly every table was overcrowded with boisterous patrons in various states of intoxication. On the opposite side of the room from the bar were an array of private booths, the seats overstuffed and adorned with well-worn furs. These were not so full and were the welcome nests of pairs of quiet paramours. But the thing that drew Molly's immediate attention and held it for a good, long moment was the brilliantly illuminated stage at the back of the tavern, where played a merry troupe of minstrels. They were performing grandly what Molly had no doubt was a bawdy tune, especially given the reactions of some of the tavern's customers. The only problem was, the song was in furiously fast Zemnian, and he was only able to pick up a handful of curses.

“Do you know the song?” Molly asked Caleb with a huge, involuntary grin.

Caleb listened for a moment. “I do. I have heard it performed in many an inn. It is popular with, uh, folk less fortunate.”

“What's it about?”

“Ah, a, uh, a farmer grows weary of her boring life at home with her bland husband, who is terrible in bed, and leaves him to join a troupe. With the troupe, she goes on many adventures, and almost all of them end with her, uh, her sexual conquests. She is very good, you see, and breaks many hearts. It is a silly song, but a good one, and it can go for a long time because you can just keep adding to it. There was one night I remember where the song went on for four hours.”

Molly whistled. “Sounds like a good night.”

“It was.” Molly barely heard Caleb's response among the din, but he easily picked up the sadness wrought into every syllable.

“Evenin’ lads!” They were interrupted by a merry halfling man with bushy sideburns and curly hair. His cheeks were flushed with either joy or drunkenness. He blinked at Molly. “Oh, err, lads or?”

Molly shrugged.

“Alright, then,” the halfling continued without missing a beat. “Welcome to the grand Lodge at the Eclipse! I am this evening's host, Bertrend Barrelbottom! Will that be a table for two?”

“Uh, actually,” began Molly, glancing back at a somewhat overwhelmed Caleb. “A booth would be preferred, Bertrend, thank you.”

“Ah, of course.” Bertrend smiled brightly at them. “If you'll just follow me. Watch your step, it's a bit slippy. Got a lot of folks here tonight lookin’ to avoid all the news ‘bout the war.”

Bertrend led them through the crowd to a secluded booth that still gave them a good view of the stage.

“Here, you are! Someone will be with you shortly. Make yourselves at home.”

“Thank you, Bertrend.” Molly thanked the halfling with a smile. Bertrend bowed dramatically and hopped off to welcome the next group of customers.

Molly removed his coat and tossed it on the seat before gliding down across from Caleb in the booth. His wizard had removed his scarf but seemed reluctant to do the same with his coat. Molly also noticed Caleb distractedly eyeing the expanse of Molly's exposed chest and the way his billowy shirt was already beginning to slip down his shoulder. Molly grinned at him, and Caleb's eyes darted to his fangs.

“It's better,” said Molly slowly, “when it's just the two of us. Isn't it, Mister Caleb? No one would tease you for so obviously admiring the view.”

Caleb shot Molly a playful glare, though his cheeks had turned pink. “Oh, of course. No one would tease me. Not even a terrible, purple tiefling.”

Molly giggled. It had been a while since he was this happy.

When their server arrived to take their order, Molly was quick to slap his coins down before Caleb could even reach into his pouch. Molly didn’t even bother to count. He was certain whatever he tossed on the table would be plenty and would more than likely cover a healthy tip.

They spent most of the evening at the Lodge, eating the surprisingly excellent food and sharing a pitcher of beer. Between the brief stretches of companionable silence, they talked. And for once, Molly kept the bullshit to a minimum. Sitting there in the Lodge, cushioned in the warmth and the slowly dancing flames of the lanterns, Molly could finally enjoy his time with Caleb. There were no devils or cultists here. There was no other member of their group to distract, not even Frumpkin. It was just them in this booth, in this raucous tavern, cocooned in their own little bubble and with a bottle of wine to join the pitcher of beer between them. Molly was pleasantly just past buzzed, in that golden and perfect place where he wasn’t quite drunk yet, but floating. And Caleb was across from him and talking with his freckled cheeks and nose a slight pink from the alcohol, and he looked so handsome with his coat finally removed, and that harness strapped across his chest, and the first few buttons of his old shirt undone so that Molly was teased by what patch of hair he could just barely see. 

At some point, Molly’s tail had found its way across to Caleb’s lap beneath the table. It coiled reflexively around Caleb’s hand, twitching and slithering between calloused fingers. Caleb was delicate with his touch, careful not to tug, and allowed the bony appendage to freely move where it would. The music had slowed significantly as a new troupe took the stage -- this performance more theater than music. It was perfectly faded into the background so that Molly could really focus all of his attention on Caleb.

Molly was full of affection for this man. So much that he was sure to burst apart from the sheer volume. It reminded him distantly of how he felt for Yasha, sometimes, when he would look at her and realize how very grateful he was to have someone so wonderful in his life. Only, this was somehow different. It was painful, almost. Molly wanted Caleb, and not just to fuck him -- he knew he could easily have that later -- but in a different way. That beautiful agony he’d felt way back in that secluded bath in the midst of that shitstorm in the village, when Caleb had come all over his stomach and chest and Molly could barely keep it together, was flooding through his veins again. He didn’t know if he liked this feeling or not. He didn’t really even know how to categorize it. It was new, he knew that much, and yet somehow familiar. He should know. He should know what this was when he looked at Caleb and saw how the light turned his wizard such a gorgeous copper that Molly’s heart seized up. Molly knew he cared for Caleb unlike how he’d cared for anyone else in his life up to this point. He wanted to exalt in this new feeling. He wanted to wrap Caleb up in his arms, and kiss him, and hold his hands without care for who might see. And maybe he could be roommates with Caleb instead of Fjord, and then they could wake up together and Molly could watch Caleb prepare his spells for the day.

Was this a crush? Perhaps not. Molly had experienced crushes before. Gustav was his first crush. The man had been so kind to him and to Yasha, and those fine, elven cheekbones should be illegal. And then there had been that barmaid with the flaxen hair who called him a moron.

But this was different than those times. This was something that…

No.

The realization hit Molly with such force that he had to remember how to breathe for a moment. He made sure to keep his smile plastered across his face so Caleb wouldn’t notice his own internal struggle, even though his wizard was busy pouring himself another glass of wine and wasn’t even looking in his direction. This was silly. This sort of thing didn’t really happen. It only existed in Jester’s books or in stage plays. Right? This sort of thing wasn’t just a bolt from the blue. This sort of intensity of emotion wasn’t just something that would appear, it would come to him slowly. 

Right? 

But how long had he known Caleb for? How long had Molly been looking at Caleb over campfires, across tables in taverns and inns, in dark caverns lit only by faintly glowing orbs, and in the bright light of the sun? How many words had they shared between them? How many affections, soft and frantic? All of that must have been enough. At least it seemed to be enough for Molly.

This was silly.

It was silly and wonderful and painful. Molly was in love with Caleb Widogast. It was new and beautiful. Molly was in love for the first time, for real, and he could do nothing but be swept away by the feeling. And all these thoughts swirled in his head in the time it took Caleb to pour himself a glass of wine and then look up to return Molly’s smile, with that tiny, precious twist of his lips.

Molly was in love. That small smile Caleb gifted him with only cemented that fact in his brain. And Molly’s smile turned brilliant and all fangs. He couldn’t help it. He could do nothing but accept it, and he wanted to cry and laugh at once.

  


Caleb was beside Molly as they walked to the Trispires up the mostly empty streets of Zadash. A few drunken revelers and late-night workers were still wandering the streets, gathering beneath the flickering lanterns or between buildings and within their doorways. Crownsguard seemed to be scarcer now than Molly remembered, but that memory was from over a year ago, and there was a gulf of darkness between then and now that Molly didn’t like to think about. Especially not now. All he wanted or could think about now was Caleb beside him this late in the evening, warm and bundled up in his thick coat and ratty scarf against the cool air. Molly wanted to lace their fingers together. He wanted so much. His realization was slithering inside him, completely consuming all of his thoughts.

Caleb stopped suddenly, his head cocked as if he was listening. Then he huffed out an exasperated sigh and muttered a string of words Molly couldn’t hear.

“Everything alright?” Molly asked.

“Jester,” replied Caleb. “She is wondering where we are.”

“Ah.”

They continued walking toward the Trispires. Molly didn’t know what to do. He needed to talk to Yasha. A sudden confession seemed like a bad idea. Although Molly rarely ever worried about bad ideas, he really,  _ really _ didn’t want to ruin this. He knew Caleb was skittish and was the type of person to avoid any sort of vulnerability. Molly was good at reading people.

“We should probably make an appearance.” Caleb muttered. Molly looked at Caleb quizzically. “With the others. They will bother us. I still want...well, would you not like to come to my room tonight?”

Molly’s blood was molten. “Of course I would! Caleb, love, I could never imagine turning you down.” He affectionately bumped his shoulder against Caleb’s once the other man turned red. “You have a plan.”

“To get us alone, yes.” Caleb cleared his throat, looking pointedly ahead. “I will talk to Nott, you can make up some sort of story I am sure, and I will tell you what room I am in.”

Molly hummed. “A bit more boring than I was hoping.”

“Not every plan needs to involve eggs, Mollymauk.”

Molly barked out a laugh. 

“Are you thinking about my cock, Mister Caleb?” He asked slyly once he recovered. Molly was rewarded with Caleb’s eyes suddenly darting to him and then quickly down between Molly's legs before looking away. He was  _ positively _ red now. Molly laughed once more. “You  _ are _ thinking about my cock!”

“Ja, okay, it is...”

“It’s what, Caleb? Share your thoughts. I know you’re the one who buys Jester all those porn books.”

Caleb swallowed. “It is...Jester was right.”

“About what?” Molly frowned. Now he was confused.

“Well,” said Caleb slowly with a grin. “You know where she was raised. She got to see a lot of dicks, so she is a bit of an expert.” Caleb paused, watching Molly’s face when finally he continued. “She said your dick was one of the best she had ever seen.”

“What?” Molly laughed.

“But I think maybe I need a bit more data to make a proper assessment.”

“Hold on,” interrupted Molly once more. “I like the porn-talk, but you can’t just gloss over that bit about my bits.”

“You will have to ask Jester about it.” Caleb looked downright smug. “I could give you my thoughts after tonight, but there is something I will need from you first.”

“It’s my cock, isn’t it?”

Caleb huffed. “Ja, it’s your cock. But I have only touched it and tasted it.” He let his words hang in the air.

“Now you’ve got me curious.”

“You’ll just have to wait.” Molly was blessed today, because today Caleb showed him what a smirk looked like on his handsome face.

  


Molly nearly died the moment he stepped into the hallway of the upper floor of the Pillow Trove. Jester came barrelling into him from one from the rooms with such speed that he barely had time to gasp as the air was crushed from his lungs. Caleb was able to slip past, seemingly unnoticed, to his room at the end of the hall.

“Oh-my-gosh-Molly! Where did you get that ring?” Jester was admiring the snake wound around his horn.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Molly asked as he preened. “Do you remember that jeweler in the Pentamarket? The one with the pink tiefling?”

“Oh yeah!” Jester exclaimed. “I remember we didn’t get anything because it was too expensive even though it all would look, like,  _ super _ good on us. We were supposed to come back after we finished those jobs for the Gentleman, but...bad things happened.”

Molly hummed. “Well, they had this for me.” He gestured to the snake. “I must’ve gone back at some point and commissioned it.”

“Well, it was a good commission. It looks very nice on you.” She started to drag him back to the room. “Come on! Fjord wants us all to talk.”

Molly groaned. He wanted to follow Caleb, but he had no choice but to be dragged helpless into the room. This was fine. Molly could be an excellent distraction, and Caleb had told him down in the lobby that he wanted some time to get himself and their room ready. This was all completely fine. 

The room was large, like he remembered all the rooms in the Pillow Trove to be. A suite: the room was sprawling with ostentatious furniture and luxuries, including a fireplace where Nugget was curled up around himself, and a balcony. Nott was whispering into her strand of copper wire on the massive bed beside Yasha. Fjord and Beau were talking at the table, a spread of mostly eaten food and empty pitchers, cups, and bottles strewn between them. They stopped to watch Jester drag Molly into the room and toss him down into one of the overstuffed chairs.

“Hey, man,” greeted Beau, turning toward him with an arm slung over the back of her chair.

“Hey, man.” Molly said back.

“Where’s Caleb?” Fjord asked. His arms were folded across his chest. Molly recognized that look. This was a business meeting.

“He can talk in the morning.” Nott explained. She hopped down from the bed and padded across the room to the table.

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” Jester asked.

“He can get his share tomorrow,” said Fjord. “We can explain more about the job then, too, but we really need Molly’s opinion on this. ‘Specially since you’re already here, Jes, and this affects both of you the most.”

“What’s this about?” Molly asked slowly. He eyed each of his friends in turn carefully, trying to read their emotions as best he could. It was tense in here.

“The Gentleman,” Beau began to explain. “He offered us another job. It’s like part two of this last one.”

Fjord nodded. “You see, he sent us up to that village ‘cause he thought maybe this cult we found had something to do with them missin’ contacts, but couldn’t be sure. So he pulled a bit of a fast one on us.” He paused. “Now he’s got this other job. Now he knows it’s this cult, but he doesn’t know too much about them. So he wants us to dig up some information about them.”

“Okay?” Molly shifted in his seat. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. He’d thought they were done with this cult.

“So,” continued Fjord. “We just wanted to know if you were in. Jester is willing to go after ‘em, but you...I dunno. You seemed to get the worse end of all that shit, and given, you know, what we know about your past or lack of, we just wanted to hear what you think. If you don’t want to take this job, we won’t take it.”

Molly huffed. Here they were again, worrying about him.

“Hey,” said Beau. From the look on her face, it was clear to Molly that she sensed his discomfort. “Let’s do it. We gotta get that piece of shit, right? He got in your head -- and Jester’s -- and we can’t let that asshole go around doing whatever the fuck he wants after he did that shit to you, right?”

Molly wasn’t so sure. “I’d,” he began. Then he paused. “I need to think about it.”

“There is one more thing you should know.” Fjord said. “He’s gonna send Cree with us. She’s got some intel apparently. And we might have to go to Rexxentrum.”

Molly grimaced and then forced that smile across his face.

“Well, fantastic!” He knocked back the remainder of a glass of liquor -- whiskey? -- that was sitting on the table in front of him. Beau helpfully refilled it for him. “You know, I was having a good day up until this point.”


End file.
